Phantasmagoria
by blue c 84
Summary: A hostage situation in Washington teaches Reid that his friend isn't at all what she seems
1. Chapter 1

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

CM: Phantasmagoria

When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live.

But in this ever changing world in which we live in makes you give in and cry.

Say live and let die.

~ The Beatles

– – – –

Morgan watched as Hotch looked out the window with a frown. He knew his boss was trying to hide his increasing impatience. It was one of those days when the job sent them elsewhere and they get back by the skin of their teeth to make it just in time for some event like New Year's eve or Christmas or Thanksgiving. This time it was Halloween, October 31, 2010, and everyone knew that Hotch planned to take his son trick or treating.

_Yeah, I get you man_, Morgan thought, _Slowest. Landing. Ever._

Not that he wanted any candy. No, he didn't even like Halloween. What Derek Morgan wanted was some time to unwind, maybe hit a few bars for drinks and have some fun. He wanted to do something completely unrelated.

"Guys, it will be fun!" he heard Reid say.

"Sorry, kiddo. After what we saw in Detroit, I don't want to see anything with smoke and mirrors or fire," Rossi apologized.

"Emily?" Morgan grinned hearing the hope laced inquiry from their youngest profiler.

"Reid, I'm just not in the mood of being spooked out. Haven't you had your fill of weird this last few days?"

"But this is different. The phantasmagoria-" Reid started but was quickly cut off by Prentiss.

"We know Reid. Old. French. Physics magic," Prentiss summarized quickly

Morgan almost felt sorry when he saw Reid's expression fall and tried to hide his disappointment by putting on his mask. The kid lay down his cards and by the groans of Rossi and Prentiss, it seemed that the he won again. He might be the smartest person in the room, but sometimes... Sometimes Morgan could swear that Reid was still a child.

The plane touched down. _Finally,_ he thought.

Unsurprisingly, Hotch was the first one out the door. "See you all on tomorrow morning," he said quickly before moving away from the group.

"Wow, that was fast," Prentiss commented.

"He has to be. Trick or treating started half an hour ago," Morgan replied. "So, I'm going for a drink. Anyone want to come?" he invited, gamely.

"I'm in," Prentiss answered with a tired sigh. "Actually, I've been thinking of getting a drink since we left Michigan," she admitted.

"I need to head home first but..." Rossi said tentatively, eying the youngest with a bit of concern but he gave Morgan a small nod. No need for Reid to think everyone ditched him for alcohol.

"How about you, youngster?" Morgan asked the kid who was trailing behind them. When he didn't get an answer, he turned in concern, letting Rossi and Prentiss go ahead. Much to his surprise, Reid had taken the mask he's been wearing off. He was standing in the middle of the tarmac fiddling with his phone. A wide grin started to grow on his face. "Reid," he called out, louder this time.

The kid lifted his gaze. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

"Some of us are going for drinks. You coming?"

Reid's face crinkled, slightly confused. "Morgan, I told you. I'm going to the phantasmagoria," he said, slipping his phone back into his coat pocket.

Morgan placed an arm around him. "Kid, let me tell you something. Tickets come in pairs. You can't go to a show alone," he stated. It was a fact. Going alone, even just to the movies, seemed a bit sad.

"Why not?" Reid replied, curiosity settling in.

"Because, man. It's just not right," Morgan answered. "So you coming with us or what, pretty boy?" He ruffled the boy's hair fondly.

Another rumpled expression. "Morgan, I'm going to the phantasmagoria," he repeated, a small smile lighting his features.

Morgan paused. "Kid, noone's going with you," he pointed out.

He could have sworn Reid snorted derisively. "Says who?" he replied grinning. Morgan watched as Spencer Reid rushed off almost just as fast as Hotch did just minutes ago. With nothing more than a- "Happy Halloween folks!", the young profile disappeared, leaving the rest of the team amused and confused at the same time.

– – - – - -

"That was amazing," A person in full V costume said, sort of skipping beside him in a very un-V like manner. "The last time I saw a show like that was in the Tate. I think that was 2006... Wow, that's quite a time ago," V mused as they walked out the installation and into the autumn streets.

Reid was awestruck. "You... What? You saw the original Fuselli's The Nightmare and you never told me?"

"What do you mean I never told you?" the person behind the mask replied. "I told you. I had to help out a curator friend one weekend in London remember? I even got you a small box of slides." His friend stopped walking, head tilting to one side. "You never went through the slides?" a small disappointed voice asked.

"Of course I did!" Reid exclaimed in his defense. And it was true. He loved the slides that showed the gothic pictures made from that century. He even bought a small slide projector just for that purpose. "You know I did. You've seen my projector."

The V turned around and started walking backwards. "Just checking, Slim," came the playful answer.

Spencer Reid pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow when he heard a snicker. Sometimes, times like these for example, he was sure she was crazy. "Summer, can you take the Guy Fawkes mask off? I can't tell if your kidding," he requested.

Much to his surprise, all she did was stop walking. Which prompted him to stop walking. She grew quiet, looking past him. Or at least he thought she was looking past him. He can't really tell with that mask on. Either way, a quiet Summer Wind McKenzie usually was enough to cause some kind of worry. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Stay where you are. Don't look back," she instructed seriously. "People have been following us," she answered quietly. "They're coming closer. Tall African American guy with a shaved head and facial hair. A rainbow of a red head lady. A guy with glasses with a Hawaiian shirt. A professor looking guy, black hair, thick eyebrows. And a brunette lady that kinda reminds me of the original Wonder Woman," she described, with concern.

_Tall African American guy with a shaved head... A rainbow..._, he repeated to himself. He sighed wryly, figuring what was happening here. He turned around, much to Summer's dismay.

"What are you doing? I just told you not to move," she hissed, tugging his coat from behind, as he waved at them.

He reached for the gloved hand that was tugging his sleeve and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Settle down, Sum. Put the plastic dagger away," he said calmly. She took her hand off his person immediately. There was a reluctant movement under her big black cape as she followed his second instruction. He could see the concerned blue eyes behind the mask and he smiled. If there were people threatening them, he knew for a fact that she would do a better job holding them at bay, with or without the toy daggers. He's seen first hand that her father was adamant with teaching her all types of self defense and he knew she kept it up. _She could probably take Morgan_, he thought amused as the quintet neared.

"You know those people?" she whispered.

"Very well. We work together," he answered. But she didn't relax her stance nor tear her eyes away from the approaching group so he gave her hand a small squeeze as the Garcia eagerly waved back. "Hi guys," Reid greeted. "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't want to see the show."

"We didn't," Rossi replied slowly, eying his friend with great interest. "We came to see if you were okay. You left in some kind of hurry awhile ago."

"Oh. That's because I didn't realize I was running late," he replied, honestly. Silence fell upon the group. He felt another small tug on his sleeve. Summer tilted her head ever so slightly as if to say, _Can we go now?_ Spencer understood, giving her a small smile and a nod. She was still on edge about the whole ordeal, therefore, not the most social of people. Being followed around was, admittedly, kind of creepy, even if it was just by people he knew. "So-"

"So Pretty Boy," Morgan said at the same time as he was going to excuse themselves, "Are you going to introduce us or not," he prompted. Garcia clapped her hands several times in delight. Emily and Kevin Lynch broke into amused grins. And Rossi just looked on, observant as usual.

"Um..." He gave the girl an apologetic shrug. There was nothing he can do here. He can't just walk away now. She gave him a shrug back, then very carefully, took off the hat, the wig and the mask she was wearing and held it on her left hand. "Guys, this is my friend, Summer Wind McKenzie," he introduced, quite satisfied that she shot out her hand gamely. "Sum, SSAs David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss. Tech analyst Penelopy Garcia and her boyfriend, also a tech analyst, Kevin Lynch."

"Anybody told you spooks that stalking is a criminal offense," she said plainly as she shook their hand reluctantly.

"Spooks?" Emily prompted.

"As in slang for government agents," Summer replied. "For people who look for signs of the crazy in human behavior, you'd think you'd know better than to follow a us a block and half for no reason." Reid was sure he just saw Prentiss' jaw drop and Morgan's brow raise- both no doubt, surprised that she even noticed them from that point.

He sure didn't and he was the government agent.

"If you were all so worried, why not just say hi like normal people? Not skulk around thinking it's fun to scare folk during the few times in the year that it's possible to say that 'Superman robbed me' and it wouldn't sound so weird because people are in costume. I mean, really-?" she continued to chastise as evenly as she could, still obviously unsettled.

Reid knew that this was highly improbably, but he could have sworn the world just stopped.

"Oh, we didn't think..." Garcia started but wasn't able to finish. So instead, she nudged her boyfriend, who simply shrugged at her, not knowing what to do. Emily was still wide eyed, sharing the same expression of disbelief with Morgan.

Spencer Reid pressed his lips together to keep from laughing or showing any delight whatsoever. It wasn't working, so he setteld his gaze to his shoes instead. He didn't know which was funnier, their surprised faces when Summer took off her mask, their jaw dropping when they realized that he had a friend who happens to be a girl or the fact that she managed to put FBI agents in their places in one go.

He doesn't know if they noticed, but she just called them all unsubs.

This was one moment he definitely had to remember.

"Well?" Summer calmly demanded. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Reid cleared his throat, not to prompt them to do something but rather to keep from laughing out load. Rossi however, took this as a sign. "We... We're sorry if we scared you," he managed to apologize evenly. "It won't happen again."

"How about we buy you a drink as a peace offering. Our treat," Morgan quickly offered to appease. "I know a place not far from here."

"Slim?"

Reid quickly nodded in agreement. "I think that's a great idea. Lead the way," he said, letting the group get ahead of them. A senior supervisory agent who wrote best sellers and put more unsubs behind bars than the rest of them combined, being knocked down a notch by a girl who just turned twenty six year old two days ago. _This is surreal_, Reid thought, unable to keep from snickering any longer. He saw blue eyes raise to meet his gaze.

"Not funny, Spencer," Summer said, although her expression started to waver as well. "Ok," she aqcuieced, starting to smile. "Maybe a bit funny."

"A bit funny?" Reid finally shot back, grinning. "Summer, these people scare the worst humanity has to offer. And I think you just sent them back to third grade."

"They were being jerks. What was I suppose to do?" she replied. She held up the Guy Fawkes mask, her tone of voice coming back to her usual light manner. "I am V tonight, you know."

Spencer Reid chuckled, earning several looks of surprise from his colleagues ahead of them. "I'm so glad you're here, Summer," he said, almost shyly smiling down at her. She beamed at him in return, linking her free arm with his as they trailed behind his friends. "Although," he added, "You haven't told me why you're staying in the Ritz Carlton on 22nd street. It feels weird that you're in town but not sleeping on my couch."

"Dr. Kelly and them, man," she replied with a shrug. "He calls me up when I'm half dazed after a thirty hour shift last week. I accidentally mention that I might be able to switch vacation weeks to watch the Phantasmagoria. And therefore, I can also check on the new chest he unearthed a few months ago- which is what he called for actually. So he asks me for dates and I was too tired to argue and the next thing I knew, I had plane tickets and non refundable hotel vouchers in my inbox... Either he's trying to spoil me or keep tabs or both," she summarized.

"You can always just stay in my place anyway," he said.

"He already paid for it. I can't let money go to waste right?" She gave him another shrug. "Hey but at least we can hang out for a week. You know. When you're not too terribly busy with work."

Reid nodded and took in the cool autumn air deeply. "I'd like that."

Yup.

Best Halloween ever.

– - - - -

Five men.

Five was all he ever needed.

They were all cowering in fear in the corner. They were all going to do what he wanted. He made sure of that. It was actually the easy part. To think, they've done things that nobody could imagine and yet they sat there, silently begging for their lives. They counted the seconds until they were freed. Here were five men wanting so very much for this to be just a bad dream.

And it would be soon. Time was going so slow but he knew that the wait would make the conquest even sweeter.

He drank the wine from his cup, watching the well heeled people mill about and chit chat. Who is doing what? Whatever happened to what's his name? Where is that new god fangled gadget and how does it really work? This used to be his world. He used to enjoy it. But like wine that had been stored to long, dusty and forgetten, this world of fancy and glitter had turned to vinegar.

Puppets.

All of them are just puppets.

Soon the clock strikes twelve. Halloween will be but a memory. A new day comes and his plan would go into action. It will be glorious.

.

– – - - - -

"I don't want to do this."

"We have to, Trev," Jason Tam replied through his communicator. He very quietly locked the last exit of the Ritz Carlton ballroom with a chain and a lock. Whatever this was about, whatever he was grabbed for, he had to admit one thing- this guy had balls.

This was some birthday party he wanted them to crash. The Supreme Court Judge had some taste. Fine white linen and thin coloured silk fell from the ceiling, draping the walls and easily concealing the exits. The place was made to look like an Arabian tent. The crystal chandeliers were the only things lighting the room, an anchor point for more white cloth and silk. Crystal beads fell from the ceiling and embroidered pillows on each chair.

People went around in their finest tux and dresses, enjoying the Arabian Night brought to them by the host. But Jason knew these weren't just rich people. No, these are people with power. He's been here not two minutes and he's seen four senators, a few congressmen and a handful of high powered lawyers.

"We're good to go, boss." Another voice said quietly in his ear. "Thirty seconds until midnight."

"Count it down, Charger," he instructed.

"29, 28, 27..." Charger's deep voice echoed solemnly in his mind as the party's host started to give his speech. All he wanted was a quiet existence. " 10...9... 8..." _God help us all_, he thought as he placed a hand on the Minimi machine gun he was issued. "3...2...1..."

Five men pulled aside the curtains of white linen that blocked their path. A second of gunfire echoed inside the ballroom. People screamed as they instinctively ducked for cover. Jason Tam went straight for the now shell shocked host on the floor. "I'm sorry. Your birthday party is over," he said as he snatched the mic from his hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry for this interruption. You see my two colleagues there at the far end," he pointed to the two men at the back, on either corner, aiming their rifles at the crowd. "Make any sudden movements and they are going to open fire," he warned. "Now, two other colleagues to your left and right. Say hi boys," he pointed them out again. "They are going to take your celphones and wallets and whatever else of value you happen to have with you. Then you are going to sit on your assigned seats. And you are going to stay all quiet like ," he said giving the signal for the two to make their move.

He took care to strip the host of his belongings himself, then motioned for him to take his seat. Everything seemed to be going well. Minutes passed by. More guests were patted down briskly but thoroughly by the twins Silvia and Torres. Jason almost relaxed somewhat until an African American man in a three piece suit, shaved head and mustache tried to be a hero. When Silvia started to pat down his middle, the man grabbed a goblet from the table and brought both his arms down and hard, hitting Silvia squarely at the base of his skull with the base of the cup. Torres quickly blocked the man's attempt of a punch. But Charger in the right corner- he took out his pistol and fired one shot. Jason knew one shot was all he needed. The bullet hit the man squarely on his shoulder.

It was over before something could even begin. "What did I tell you folks," Jason said over the microphone. "I said no funny business." He jumped off the stage and made his way to Silvia, who was still on the floor rubbing his neck. "You ok?" he asked, going down on one knee.

"No, boss. I don't-" Silvia then faced the other way, throwing up whatever meager dinner they were served. "Might be concussed," he reported a bit slurred. His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to keep the world from spinning.

"Boss," Torres called out, motioning to the wannabe hero now being fussed over by his wife. Torres marched over to him but keot an eye out. "The guy said nobody dies until he gives the signal. But he's bleeding pretty badly and Silvia was our medic," he whispered, frowning.

Jason sighed. This was going to be a problem. "Trev," he said quietly, using the communicator instead of going to the far left corner where the youngest in their team was.

"Yeah Tammy?" he asked.

""Any of the guests in this shop doctors? Silvia's looking a bit green and Charger shot a bleeder."

"Sorry, Jason," he heard Charger say.

"Five doctors in the house, Tammy. Three males. 45 honeymoon suite, 40 with family and 55 with family. two females. 47, with her family. The other one is 26. Best guess is that she's liscensed but still a resident," came the snappy report.

Jason sighed with dismay. There were so many glitzy people in this room and none of them was a doctor. He's going to have to bring someone in to this hell hole. As if his life currently isn't hard enough. "Charger, hold the fort. Trev, do you know what 26 looks like?" he asked.

"Unfortunately," he answered.

"She's the one. Might as well get the only one without a loved one, right? If she's not around, get 55. Plain clothes, Trevor. And make it snappy. The cops should be coming soon," he instructed.

"Copy that."

And with that, Jason saw a blur off the far left corner. "Torres." He nodded, as they continued on with the search with him taking Silvia's place.

All the scared looking people here stared at them like they were monsters. Jason swallowed staring right back at them until they looked away. _Think of Rach_, he told himself but couldn't quite bring himself to. He needed to concentrate. He couldn't let anything else go wrong. If _he_ knew...

No he couln't go there. He had to hope for the best. For him and the guys. If they play their parts right, they get to go free. And quite frankly, that's what's important right now.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

CM: Phantasmagoria

For the fourth time that night, Summer McKenzie eyed her bed simply amazed. "Why would anyone need a king sized bed?" she asked herself as she crawled underneath the covers. It felt weird having this much space. Rolling around in a giant bed was only amusing for so long. She could spread her arms as far as she could and wouldn't feel the ends of the bed.

Not even close.

It was disturbing.

Although, she had to admit, the sheets were so soft. She was actually tempted just to strip the bed of the sheets and sleep on the sofa by the window instead. However, she knew that was just silly. She could almost here Spencer tell her how ridiculous that idea would be. This is what her crazy professor friend paid for- the giant bed, the flat screen tv, the enormous room, the fluffy towels, the giant tub with all those little ammenities that she wouldn't otherwise get by staying at a friend's place, couch surfing or staying in a hostel. Hotel staff's going to be really annoyed about her salt lines though...But a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do. Who knew how many people have died in this building since it was built? Bad enough it was halloween.

Had she not heard gunshots, she wouldn't have known she had drifted to sleep. Her hand quickly reached for .22 Beretta under her pillow. The darkness seemed still. She tried to listen if her neighbors were alerted as well but heard nothing else except the whirl of the heating system. _Must be someone's tv_, she guessed, eying small speakers mounted on the walls to provide the surround sound usually found in a movie theatre.

Slowly, she returned the gun to it's previous location and settled down again. Only to be awakened by a beeping sound. She eyed the phone suspiciously as the red light flashed in time with the sound. Everybody she knew in the city called her by her mobile... but then again, mobile charges were beginning to be difficult. "Hello?" she answered, curious more than anything.

"Hi, this is Dr. Summer Wind McKenzie right?" the panicked voice of a man asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"This is front desk ma'am. There's a situation in the ballroom that needs medical attention. We called 9-1-1 but the lady said it would take 10 minutes for the paramedics. But the guy can't breath and he's turning blue-" the man related without pause.

"Okay. Fine. I'll be right down," she said, hitting the light switches.

"Use the second set of elevators, ma'am. It's the closest to the ballroom," the man informed before the line went dead.

Summer shook her head as she grabbed a pair of jeans, socks and wore her boots. She didn't bother changing out of her sleepshirt. Somehow she didn't think the guy who probably was in anaphalactic shock could care less about the 'Badger Badger' print. She grabbed her leather jacket and her bag and made a dash for it while tucking in her necklace pendant inside her shirt.

Holding the down button and ground floor button forced the elevator to its destination. A man in all black was there to greet her, green eyes wide eyed in panic. He ran his hand through his messy brown hair before he gave it to her to shake. _Calloused_, Summer noticed.

"Right here, Dr. McKenzie," he motioned towards one hallway and she followed suit. "We really appreciate this."

"Yeah, no problem," she said, taking in the guy beside him. He was tall and lithe and lean. He moved with a purpose. Probably mid to late thirties, if she had to guess. But that wasn't what bothered her. He had no name tag on. He was only very loosely wearing the hotel uniform jacket because it looked a size or two too big. And his shoes- she swore, the rest of the male staff she had passed by earlier, wore dress shoes or at least, decent loafers. Either way, they were always black, not tan. And she knew those shoes...

He held the door to the ballroom for her. "Just through here ma'am," he motioned, innocently enough.

She took a step back catiously. "Front desk doesn't wear tan combat boots," she said carefully. "Who are you?" she demanded, adjusting the strap of her bag with one pull. If she needed to run, she didn't want it moving around.

"Look, there's a guy in there in trouble-"

"I don't hear anything, bud." She shook her head, taking another slow step backwards and slowly reaching for the small knife she locked in the lining of her jacket. If that guy had a gun, she was going to make sure she can throw a knife. The ones in her boots were too far to reach. "I'm leaving," she stated evenly. She heard the faint ring of sirens grow louder. _They're coming here_, she realized. _Damn._

The guy just pressed his lips into a thin line. "Wife," he said, calmly, while keeping and eye on her retreating form.

Summer had her hand wrapped around the small grip when a lady appeared. Her hands and pale pink satin dress were covered in blood. "Please," she pleaded, tears running down her face. "Please, they shot him," the 'wife' sobbed again, before 'front desk' shoved her back into the room.

"Well?" 'front desk' prompted.

Summer bit her bottom lip, knowing there wouldn't be much of a choice here. She can't let a guy bleed to death even if that meant putting herself in danger. Her conscience will literally kill her. She sighed, reluctantly stepping forward.

"Bag and cel phone."

She shoved them to him, frowning. "Come on, man, I just came from bed," she pointed out, hoping that he doesn't go searching any further when he pat down her sides and down her leg. It seemed to have worked. "What did you do to him anyway?"

"GSW on the shoulder. There's a medical kit beside him," he said quickly pushing her in and locking the door with chains behind him.

Summer's eyes grew wide in shock. There were so many people here, and they were all seated like they were waiting for dinner to arrive. Only the tables were alredy a mess. Drinks had been drunk. Food had been eaten. And they all held the same expression of extreme fear.

'Front desk' shoved her towards a table. "Get a move on," he said, now armed with a light machine gun. Five of them she counted as she walked towards where he intructed to go. She took a deep breath, flexing her hands, trying to fight the adrenaline that pumped through her system. Neither fight or flight wasn't a choice here, it seemed.

"There, that's the guy," he pointed at the man lying face down on the buffet table.

Summer paused for a second. She recognized that man. The man's pained brown eyes met hers and she knew he recognized her too. She just visited the Navy Yard the day before, or technically, two days before. They were very briefly introduced... "Been shot... doc," was all he said.

"Yeah, I see that Mister..."

"Vance."

"Right," she answered, opening up the small medical kit on the table. Her mind however, was screaming every curse word in every language she knew. Surgical Critical Care training told her her to calm down. This was just like any other GSW. Only she wasn't in the hospital, she didn't have a supervisor around and she didn't have enough equipment, specifically and ironically gloves, and if she messes this up, a few people she knew is going to want her head on a stick. "Hey Green Eyes, my bag has a small_ trauma_ medical kit."

"And?"

"Dude, it's like a rule- Wear gloves," she stated plainly. She saw the man's eyes flicker upward to her. She gave him a small thin smile. "Your kit has none."

The man grumbled as he started walking away. "Don't try anything."

Like she could.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Agent Aaron Hotchner marched into the lobby of the Ritz Carlton dreading the swarm of reporters already there ready to take pictures and shove microphones at him. It was far too early to deal with over eager reporters trying to make their deadlines. Two AM is too early to deal with anything, yet oddly enough, they were already late in the game. The hostages were taken at midnight, or there abouts.

Luckily, Morgan spotted him before the media did and deployed officers to make a hole for him to pass thorugh the sea of flash bulbs and soundbytes. "Bomb squad combed through the building top to bottom- nothing," he reported as he lead the way to the conference room the hotel was providing for them.

"And the hotel guests?" Hotch asked as they took the flight of stairs flanked by officers.

"The hotel's under lockdown, Hotch. Local PD is on every floor making sure they stay inside their rooms and coordinate an evacuation if needed. The hotel staff is trying to place them all in different hotels as we speak. Those who they can place are going out of the backdoor with police escort."

"Good. We don't need a stampede in our hands. And there's no need to kick them out in the cold this early in the morning if there's no bomb threat, " he agreed. "I'm assuming we've been given the lead on this?"

"Yeah and the team's already here, looking over the guest list. PD offered them a secured line an hour ago. So far, no calls and Garcia and Prentiss looking through names," Morgan continued, with one hand on the door, ready to open it for him. But he didn't. Not at once. "Hotch, there's something else you need to know."

Hotch saw Morgan's expression soften as the profiler took a measured breath. "Morgan," he prompted.

"It's Reid, man." Morgan said quietly. "He has a friend staying here. A medical resident named Summer Wind McKenzie. Sweet girl. We even hung out in the pub last night."

"And?"

"She's not answering her phone. She's missing."

A chill ran down the team leader's spine. He knew how debilitating a missing loved one could be. More so, he guessed, for their youngest who didn't have as many friends as the rest of them. All he could do was nod, which seemed enough for Morgan, who then opened the door for him.

Immediately he was greeted by his already working team seated at different points on the long mahogany table. The hotel had given them pastries, coffee, tea and water on one of the tables pressed against the wall. But it seemed barely touched. Penelope Garcia had taken a quarter of the table space with three different laptops. Spencer Reid was right beside her, watching the security tapes. Emily Prentiss was infront of the white board, running her hand through the banquet's guest list and hotel maps that she had tacked on the board. And David Rossi was on one side of the table, looking over his notes.

"What do we know?" he asked.

"This was Chief Justice Trent's birthday party," Rossi started. "According to the hotel manager, it's the only party that's booked here. When the staff heard gunfire, they immediately called 9-1-1 and police sealed off the basement. The party is on Salon 1," he said pointing at the map. "But the unsubs sealed off every door of the three salons that compromise the Ritz Ballroom."

"There's five of them in . This was premeditated," Reid continued without looking up from the screen. "They could have gotten in any number of ways but they do materialize coming out of the fire escape. Hotel security doesn't have cameras there and I think they knew that because they knew to keep their faces hidden from cameras when they were spotted. Which means they knew beforehand where the cameras were. Even when they go in the ballroom, they knew to keep behind the drapes so they couldn't be easily spotted. Then, they shot out the cameras."

"The problem is Hotch, any one of these people could be the target," Emily huffed. "I'm just looking at this list and I recognize politicians, judges, socialites, businessmen- it's like a who's who of DC."

"And I'm running the names that Emily doesn't recognize. So far, they are all equally giant and important sounding." Garcia's smile wavered.

Morgan frowned, standing behind Reid watching the screen. "They're heavily armed, Hotch. Each has their own machine gun. By the way they move, I'd wager they all know each other. These guys act like one unit," Morgan concluded.

"And in two hours they haven't demanded anything," Hotch leaned against the table, bracing his weight with his arms. "If they-"

"Summer," Reid's small panicked voice suddenly interrupted. Hotch saw the team stop, hurrying behind him to see what's wrong. Hotch watched a girl run down the stairs with one of the unsubs just to stop when when the man opened the door. That's when she started to move very cautiously backwards.

"She realized something was wrong," Rossi noted. "She's trying to leave."

But then, a bloodied older woman was pushed into the hallway. And Hotch saw Reid's friend pause. When the woman was pushed back in, there was a second of stillness before the girl begrudgingly stepped forward and surrendered her bag. Then she was shoved in.

Emily placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Reid, she surrendered to help," she said to the frozen young man, trying to soothe his nerves.

"If someone was shot, and they needed a doctor, why did they call her?" Hotch frowned. "Garcia, how many liscensed doctors are staying in this hotel?"

Hotch saw a the analyst tear her eyes away from the security feed. "Including Ms. McKenzie, five. One honeymoon-er. Three on vacation with their family. And...And Summer." She started typing again.

"So they got the only one staying alone," Hotch said out loud. "Easier to contain the situation. Nobody would've reported her missing to the staff," he continued, catching himself too late. The room stood still for a second as the team stared at him with disbelief. He couldn't believe he just said something so calloused himsef. "Reid, I apologize. I wasn't -,"

"Guys," Garcia called out, cutting off his apology. "I have the recording on how they got her to come down," she said.

Hotch carefully watched as Reid sat stiff and silent on his chair listening to one of the unsub feed his friend a fake medical condition that would send any doctor down to help. The click of the call ending prompted them all to consider their friend's situation. "Reid, do you want to take some time to-"

'No.." Read paused to clear his throat. "No, Hotch." he repeated again. His raised his trembling hands and then lowered it just as quickly. "I think... I think I saw something in the security feed," he said instead, swallowing air. "Garcia, how do I-"

"Rewind the feed? Oh sweetie, let me..." Garcia leaned over, pressing a few buttons.

Hotch watched the genius lean in, almost squinting at the screen as the figures reanimated themselves, proud that the kid was keeping it together. "There. Stop it there," Reid instructed.

"What is it kid?" Morgan asked.

"I think she's pointing at his shoes... Hotch, I think that's what tipped her off," Reid said tentatively. "Tan shoes when hotel staff wears black."

"And I, team, am going shoe shopping," Garcia announced, already bringing out frame after frame of the unsubs and zooming into their shoes.

Hotch gave the young profiler several pats on the shoulder. "Good job, Reid," he said, earning a small tight smile. The kid once told him that he does his best work under extreme terror. It was proving to be true once more, though even Hotch wouldn't wish this on anyone. "Finally," Hotch murmurred when the secured line started ringing. "Dave," he prompted, tilting his head to the phone.

"How do you want to play this?" Rossi inquired, his finger already ready to press the button.

"People for concessions," Hotch answered quickly.

And with a nod, Rossi pressed the button. "Good morning. I am Supervisory Agent Rossi from FBI," he greeted pleasantly. "Who might I be speaking to?"

There was a bit of a scuffle in the other line- a nervous tapping on the table. "Summer Wind McKenzie, sir-" answered the careful measured female voice. Hotch saw the team stop to listen. "Dude, when I'm nervous, I tap. Sue me. You kind of have a nine mil to my head. How would you feel?" they heard her faint voice snap.

Hotch's brow furrowed. There was some disconnect on how she was talking to the unsubs. Most terrified people won't reason with their captors about their ticks. They'd apologize and try not to do it again. It was like that security feed, when she was backing away- Hotch could have sworn she was reaching for something, which is another question altogether. Again, most people who realize they might be in trouble run. She didn't run or turn her back to the unsubs. Instead, she maintained eye contact.

It didn't make sense.

There was a huff on the other line and more tapping. "Summer, are you still with me?" Rossi asked.

"Yeah, um..." the girl replied, sounding more nervous this time. "Agent Rossi... Sir, I need insulin. There are a handful of diabetics here without their pens..."

"Summer, is it possible to ask them if they can just let the sick people out to get medical treatment?" Rossi asked carefully.

There was silence on the other line for a moment. "They are shaking their heads, sir. That's a negative."

"Is there anything else you need, dear?"

"Diazepam, would be nice right now," the girl asnwered gamely. And to her captors, she said, "Anti anxiety meds. I joke when I'm nervous."

_This girl is pushing it_, Hotch frowned.

"Summer, are you still there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you ask them what they want. What do they hope to achieve with all this?" Rossi inquired.

There was another pause. A more lengthy one this time. But oddly enough, the tapping remained.

"Sir," the girl answered tentatively, "They said to tell you that if the US government doesn't negotiate with terrorists, neither will they."

And with that, the line went dead.

"Well that was weird," Prentiss commented. "If they wanted to instill fear and panic, they could just kill the hostages. Prove how fast and easy it is to get to officials and people in government. It's simple, effective and gets the message across," she said. "Instead, they ask for a doctor. They allow her to ask for insulin. Yes, they're scaring everyone but they're also making sure that these people live. Does that sound like a terrorist to any of you?"

"And she keeps calling Rossi 'Sir'..." Reid added, shaking his head disturbed.

Hotch's interest piqued. He felt like there was something there as well. Something about how this girl talked felt like she was sending a message. To them in particular. "She's talking to a federal agent. That's not normal?" he asked.

"She knew we were federal agents last night and she still bit our pretty little heads off because we scared her," Garcia supplied.

"...The only time I've ever heard her call anyone sir is her father," Reid went on.

"Her father?" Morgan prodded.

Reid nodded. "There was a time her dad was in British military."

And with that, something in Hotch's mind just clicked. The way the girl backed away from a percieved threat reminded him of how they would warily treat a threatening unsub when they came face to face. The way she spoke to Rossi would have made more sense if she wasn't quipping to the unsubs in a surprisingly different manner. She made sure to make them know that she was joking... Of course, she relied on Reid to catch it. To catch the 'Sir'. To catch that she obviously pointed to tan shoes. There was something with those shoes. And the tapping. She made sure to make them know she was tapping. "Reid, did her father teach her in anything?"

Reid answered like...a ghost."He was insistent with self defense. She practices Kali, Savate, Krav Maga and last year she mentioned learning Pankration. But she's an only child and they travelled all over the world in all kinds of places. Her mother was a linguist and taught her different languages. I know from experience she's fluent in the Romance languages, Japanese, Russian and Manderin. However, I've also heard her-"

Hotch put his hand up. He's heard enough and quite frankly, he couldn't bare to listen to Reid's shell shocked voice. He had what he needed to know. "Garcia, can you play back the whole call. She said she taps when she's nervous. I want to hear just the taps." Through the side of his eye, he saw the analyst nod.

"You think she was trying to send us a message? That wasn't just nerves?" Rossi inquired.

Hotch shook his head. "I don't know for sure. I'm just guessing. Military fathers don't normally stop at self defense. Look at Owen Savage. His father taught him how to fire a gun, pushed him into sports, and was generally overbearing. And it sounds like her parents taught her a lot more than Mr. Savage did. "

A few seconds ticked by. "Filtering out the voices..." Garcia said as she typed. "Amplifying the barely there thuds..." More typing. "And voila!"

A series of taps and pauses filled the air from Garcia's laptop. The team looked at each other realizing what he wanted to hear. And there it was, a small note in sound. Hotch watched his team move into action- Morgan instructed Garcia to play the feed back while Prentiss took to the whiteboard, pen at the ready to create a visual for the taps. Reid stood after a few seconds, took another marker analyzing the patterns.

"Is that-" Rossi met the team leader's gaze.

Hotch nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "Morse code.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM: Phantasmagoria

A plate of yellow mush appeared in his line of sight just as he raised his gaze to see if the situation has changed. Silvia followed to plate to the hand holding the plate and then met the owner's apprehensive gaze. The young doctor took another step forward, bringing the plate of food nearer, carefully, like he was stray dog she wanted to feed but was afraid would bite her. "You need to eat, man," she finally verbalized.

"Nobody's had anything," he replied, trying to ignore his grumbling stomach.

"Yeah, but they didn't regurgitate their dinner either," she retorted, still holding the plate of food out for him.

Silvia raised an eyebrow at her, surprised more than anything else. Everybody else they have captive looked tired and fearful. Some of them were asleep or at least trying to, heads on the table, padded by their hands. They all kept silent. They didn't say a word and avoided eye contact at all costs.

But here was this girl they happened to drag into this operation and she seemed met them all in the eye and even had the gall to answer back. She seemed to go about things very cautiously, so much so that he couldn't tell if it was because of fear, or if this is really how she was.

"Dude, I'm just the delivery girl," she said. "Your buddies are giving you the last bits of untouched mash from the buffet to make sure you're fine. So please take the food man."

Silvia gingerly accepted the plate, earning a thin smile from the girl which further fueled his curiosity. They took her hostage. She took a bullet out of a guy on a dining table. She followed their instructions and said what she was told to say to the FBI without question. She didn't even try to call for help. Her clothes were bloodied, she hasn't had much sleep and they were constantly threatening to shoot her yet there she was, getting him glass of water.

Everybody else was a ball of nerves. Even his own crew.

Her hands weren't even shaking when she handed him the drink.

"Are you scared at all?" he finally asked.

"Sure," she answered, shrugging. "I mean, you guys are holding us hostage and refuse to negotiate. They keep putting a gun to my head. Why wouldn't I be scared?"

Silvia narrowed his eyes with even more interest. He heard what she said but the way she said it was like somebody just asked her about the weather. "You sure don't act like it," he replied.

Another offhand shrug. "I guess i just learned to handle things better than most people. I spend a lot of time in the E.R. Nowadays because I want to be in Surgical Critical Care. We get lots of different folks and they can't ever see me panic, you know?" She shoved her hands in her jeans pocket, rocking in her heels. "I mean, it's the same here. Dad used to always say to act, not react. Giving into panic doesn't do anything useful."

"Sounds like your dad was a smart man."

"Yeah. Or he watched too much Xena Warrior Princess," she said, giving him a small smile.

That explained some of it, but not all of it. Silvia watched as she walked away, heading towards the man they had shot. As nice as she is, he can't hide the fact that this one was going to be trouble for them. Fear keeps everyone in check. He has seen first hand how the simple expression of being afraid resonates into the populace. It spreads like an infection. And that's what they needed. They needed a calm doctor earlier for the guy and for him. They definitely did not need one now.

He motioned for his twin to come to him when he got the chance. Torres came immediately, but kept his eyes on the crowd. "What's wrong?" his brother asked.

"You see the doc?"

"Yeah?"

"She's keeping calm and carrying on. She's making people feel secure, walking around like that and answering back. Tell Tammy to be more heavy handed," he instructed watching the doctor offer a small smile to the injured guy's wife.

How far would they have to push her for her to crack?

00oo000oo0o00o0o

"Are you sure we are to work with the alphabet stew, Gibbs?"

"It's called alphabet soup, Ziva," Mcgee corrected. "But boss, she's right. Every agency is here. What can we do here that they aren't already doing?"

Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs almost smiled when he heard the sound of palm hitting head and it wasn't even his palm hitting the man's head. He navigated the hotel lobby filled with agents from every possible agency with one large cup of coffee in each hand and an expression that told people to look away if they wanted to live. Which, thankfully, they did. He hated the politics of Washington as it is. Small talk isn't his thing either. And three am was far too early to be dealing with anything else but the job at hand.

"Because, McSleepy," said the owner of the hand that slapped the agent's head, "Sinatra told the FBI to call us in specifically."

"No offense, Tony, she is a very lovely girl. But are we in the habit of jumping into a situation just because she says so?" Ziva asked.

"No, we aren't. But then, she isn't the type to use Sinatra either," Gibbs answered quickly, wanting to end this conversation fast, not wanting the other agencies to know. He knew better than anyone else that the kid never used that name unless she had to. In fact, she once confessed over several bottles of drinks that it was a burden- she wants to end it all but what was she really suppose to do when people tell her they need help and life and death are on the balance. So when Fornell said over the phone that Sinatra was calling for NCIS pronto, he drove to the hotel as fast as he could and told the team to met him there. His worry only increased when he spotted Fornell at the foot of stairs talking to several other agents that wore jackets with FBI written in huge block letters.

Fornell dismissed the other agents when he saw him coming down the stairs. "Gibbs," he greeted grimly.

"Where is she?" Gibbs demanded.

He saw Fornell rub the back of his neck and look away when they started walking. "NCIS isn't getting lead on this one. Orders from above came through that the situation will be lead by the FBI's BAU," the FBI agent replied.

"That's a lot of letters that I don't care about, Tobias," Gibbs retorted. "Where is she?" he repeated.

"You should care about it Gibbs because they're going to ask questions," Fornell warned.

"Did I stutter, Fornell?"

"I don't know, alright. If I knew, don't you think I would've told you by now? I'm here just to act as liason between you and them since no other agent wanted to wake you from your beauty sleep," the FBI agent answered, quietly. "Honestly, BAU's got the lead but for the past hour, they've been pestered by every kid on the block. What's worse is that their section chief Strauss just decided to hold a magnifying glass from her office. Strauss and Hotchner- they don't really have a history of getting along."

"So if this pulls through, she gets the credit and if it's a disaster, she's far enough to deflect blame." Gibbs snorted derisively. "Politics."

"Exactly. So play nice, Gibbs," Fornell said with one hand on the door, pausing.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and gave his friend a single nod. The door was opened revealing a boardroom with less than ten people inside. Two agents were interviewing hotel staff. One colourful person was behind the computers. Several other men were going through files and one scrawny looking kid was eying him curiously. Gibbs remembered him- several years ago, in the coffee shop, he had longer, messier hair. But he was right. The kid was a cop. And right now, he was signalling the grim looking guy in a three piece suit that they were here.

"Whoah, we're not in Kansas anymore," he heard Dinozzo comment.

It didn't matter. What caught his eye was the whiteboard. Dots and lines with corresponding letters on the bottom in big block script. '_DIR__V SHOT CALL NCIS GIBBS SINATRA' _ it said. Which just reminded his own question. "Is someone going to tell me where she is?" he demanded loudly.

He saw Fornell shake his head and met his gaze. I _thought we talked about this?_ he seemed to say.

Gibbs just shrugged as the man in a suit came, file on one hand while offering the other for a hand shake. "SSA Aaron Hotchner," he greeted. "SSAs Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi. Dr. Spencer Reid. And our tech analyst, Penelope Garcia," he introduced pointing at every single member who paused, nodded and/ or waved.

"Gibbs,' he returned. "Dinozzo, McGee and David," he pointed behind him. "You in charge here?"

"My team is, yes. We called you in because of the message. We'd like your input, Agent Gibbs," he said motioning to the white board. "Your name was the only one that made sense. We've also been trying to find out who Sinatra is or if the group is calling themselves Sinatra and if so-"

"Excuse me, Agent Hotchner, this message was given to you in morse code?" Ziva interjected, curiously.

"When they called they were using a middle man named Dr. Summer Wind McKenzie. She is a patron in the hotel. The unsubs told her that there was a medical emergency in the ballroom. She came down and spotted what was wrong a little too late. She was tapping out the code when she was on the phone with us," Rossi summarized.

"Spotted what was wrong a little too late?" McGee inquired.

"She was ready to leave but they presented her with a bloodied woman so she went in to help. Can't make a positive ID on the woman because of the video resolution," Morgan replied evenly.

"Why? What do you guys know?" Prentiss asked suspiciously.

"Boss, I don't think we have a choice here," Tony Dinozzo whispered.

"Didn't think we had much of one when they called, Dinozzo," Gibbs answered, eying Dr. Reid briefly. "Agent Hotchner, take the civilians out of the room. We need to talk."

"Okay," Hotchner replied tentatively, giving a silent order to Rossi and Prentiss.

Much to Gibbs' delight, it only took seconds for the room to clear out. The door behind him opened briefly letting in the noise outside. But once the door was closed again, the room fell silent with BAU on one side of the room and his own team and, of course, FBI agent Fornell, on the opposite.

"What are we missing here?" Hotchner finally asked.

Gibbs frowned. " V is NCIS Director Vance. And Sinatra ain't the name of the hostage takers." he snapped, placing both of his coffee cups on the table.

"So who is Sinatra?" Reid asked.

"Kid," Gibbs said almost gently, "Sinatra is your friend Summer Wind McKenzie."


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Now officially a cross over :) Enjoy?

CM: Phantasmagoria

Spencer Reid pressed the page down button on one of Garcia's laptops amazed and confused at the same time. Summer's family had a file. A top secret file. A long top secret file. It spanned close to two decades. She told him stories of archaeological dig sites and museums and the new places she's visited and the new language she learned because her family lived like nomads. Yes, he knew that her father was ex british special forces. She told him completely by mistake then made him swear not to tell anyone else which he hasnt. And, yes, her mother is a linguist with lots of friends in the fields of history, archeology and languages. Yes, he even knew that they went on treasure hunts and that her father's been training her in ever since she could remember.

He always thought it was just because the McKenzies had one little girl and they made damn sure that she could take care of herself in case they got separated in an unknown country. Some parents give their kids emergency numbers. The McKenzies drilled her to be overly prepared.

This file told him different. Summer wasn't just made to be prepared. The training was practically a necessity.

He never imagined that they would take on jobs as independent contractors by the name of Sinatra. It was her parents, he realized after the second page. Her parents would do two or three small jobs a year, probably in between digs or whatever else they did. The jobs lessened between when Mrs. McKenzie was pregnant and until Summer was six- once or twice every two years. Then it was back to the old rate of things until her parents died.

Until it was just Summer.

That's where the file ended. But he knew that just because it doesn't have a report to be blacked off, it doesn't mean that she hadn't done something in relation off the books. The fact that these NCIS folks and Agent Fornell still know that she's Sinatra meant she's probably done something.

It was difficult to read. Here laid infront of him was the secret life of a dear friend that he didn't know about. None of this seemed to match the McKenzies he knew. There was never any indication of anything wrong with their family dynamic. They acted like every other family.

How could he not have known? Could it be that she's been trying to tell him but he just dismissed it as something else? Reid took a deep breath. He shoved one hand into his jean pocket to find an old silver coin there- a 19th century medal of St. Benedict- to remind himself that he can do this without any help from any substance. But then he quickly let it go remembering that it was a gift from Summer.

It was specialy delivered to him at the same time he got his 1 year recovery medallion. He had been afraid to take it out of its case because he knew these coins were rare, with all the extra indulgences cast on the silver coin. Quite frankly, it could have been museum piece. He had told Summer that he couldn't accept but she refused to hear it. "But it's fitting and it's perfect," she had argued when he called her. " It's a lot more discreet. You're not going to get a lot of questions about it if it falls or someone finds it in your pocket. It's heavier than the NA medallion so you can actually feel it in your pocket when, you know, you don't feel very well. Silver has long been known to be a medicinal element. And the St. Benedict medallion, among other things, protects against poisons and temptations. You can even do magic tricks on the coin because it is small enough. Slim, it doesn't get more awesome than that." When he pointed out that it should also probably be in the Vatican museum, she just replied that it was just a bonus and that the Vatican had a few already.

That was the Summer he knew. She's ridiculous and silly and cares too much about everything. She couldn't have pulled this thing in Russia where she helped her father jail break an NIS officer. His energizer bunny of a friend couldn't have had pulled a trigger on this guy's-

"Whoah there, kid," a voice suddenly interrupted his read. "Easy on the keyboard. Geez, you're like Ziva with her computer."

Reid took his finger off the page down button as fast as he could as the NCIS Agent Dinozzo sat down on the chair beside him with his own borrowed laptop watching the security feed where Summer was running to the ballroom with one of the unsubs. He placed the video on pause. "What seems to be the problem with the computer? Maybe the McWiz can fix that for you." Dinozzo asked.

"I heard that, Tony," his partner said, eyes not lifting from the floor plans he was looking at with the other NCIS agent, David.

"Nothing," Spencer answered glumly. "The laptop is fine."

"Alrighty," the agent said, spinning his chair round in circles. "Then why the Ziva?"

This time it was Agent David. "I heard that, Tony."

Agent Dinozzo just gave the pair the cheekiest smile Spencer had ever seen. "Hey, if the shoe fits..." he said before turning his attention back to him. "So, the question stands, doctor?"

"Nothing alright," he answered quickly. "It's nothing."

Dinozzo shrugged easily enough though he was still spinning his chair around. "If it helps, we didn't know about you either. Well, maybe Gibbs did. Something about a cafe... but I highly doubt that you were introduced."

Spencer felt his heart drop. "She doesn't talk about me?"

He saw Agnet Dinozzo flinch. "Weeeeeellll, she says she has this genius of a friend who lives in D.C. She talks about that guy. Vaguely. Not really a lot of details, you know," he replied, making his chair go around the other way.

Spencer eyed his screen ruefully and nodded. Somehow, that didn't make him feel better. "It's just-I can't believe she didn't tell me about this."

"Look, Doc. Doesn't look like she had a choice. You think she wanted to grow up like Hit Girl?"

"Who's Hitgirl?"

Agent Dinozzo just stared at him for a second. "Hitgirl. You know, from the graphic novel Kick Ass. They turned it into a movie last year. Earned a cool $20 million. Nic Cage... No?" he explained in vain.

"Tony..." Agent McGee warned flatly.

"Or ever think that little stamp on the files are labelled _top secret_ for a reason?" Agent Gibbs suddenly said, coming through the door with Hotch right behind him.

Reid raised his gaze to the agent. _Point taken, _he thought. But then he told her things all the time...

"You better have something, Dinozzo," Gibbs continued.

"Yes, boss!" Spencer was surprised to see the man stand at attention so quickly. "Rule number 9, boss. McKenzie's armed and relatively bulletproof," Agent Dinozzo declared.

"Rule number 9?" Rossi inquired.

"Armed with what?" Morgan asked.

"Bulletproof?" Prentiss added.

"Knives, Agent Morgan. Never leave home without one," Dinozzo replied. "Or in Summer's case, three. The pat down wasn't thorough. Never reached her boots and we all know, she has one in each boot and one on her back. She was going for it when they brought out Mrs. Vance." He tugged on his jacket, smirking at Emily as he did so. "Her leather jacket's bulletproof. Inheritted the habit from her father, I think. Right boss?"

Reid saw their "boss" simply raise an eyebrow and rested his gaze on another NCIS agent.

"Also, we might be able to get eyes on the place," Agent Mcgee said pointing at the blue prints. "These security cameras, boss, the way they're installed... I think there's a possibility that we can sneak one in-"

"McGee!" was all their superior said.

"Talk to the hotel manager to see if it can be done. On it, boss," Agent McGee stated before leaving the room with blueprints.

Spencer eyed the man drinking his second cup of coffee in less than an hour. This was one of the men he saw at the coffee shop years ago, the one Summer had said was famous for his gut instinct. After reading the file however, he wasn't so sure about her assesment now. If he had such a good gut instinct, how in the world was he arrested in Russia? "Yeah, son?" Agent Gibbs gave him a sidewards look.

Spencer shook his head, putting his attention back on the file. No, he had nothing to say this guy. Hotch asked him to figure out how Summer could possibly help from the inside and that's what he was going to do.

Even if it felt weird profiling a friend

Even if it felt wrong reading secrets she probably never wanted anyone to find out.

He was going to finish analyzing the file because he was the only one who can and should read it. It was the only way to get her back out.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Now officially a cross over :) Enjoy?

CM: Phantasmagoria

"Hotch," Garcia called out. "I think I got something, here. I've been trying to see what's so interesting about the boot right? Because that's what she pointed to. The boots. So I finally found a picture of one of them and blew the picture up and cleaned up the pixels," she pointed to her screen before swivelling the screen around to show them.

"Eagle, globe and anchor," Rossi said eying the leader of the NCIS team.

"The Marines." Prentiss nodded, grimly. "Explains why they act like a unit. Explains how they know how to use the guns too. If they got the guns from the navy yard, there should be some missing."

"Why go for just the guns when you can go for the people. Gibbs, we can get a list of names for every Marine on land in the area. They will be one of the missings," Agent David suggested.

"I'll wager that these aren't random marines. No, the way they move seem like they're more familiar with each other. A team. It'll save us time if we can just call one person per team. Should cut the canvass in half," Morgan added.

"Morgan, Prentiss, do the canvass" Hotch agreed. "Once we know who we're dealing with, we'd know how to manipulate the situation."

"You'll get questioned less and answers faster with my guys on board," Agent Gibbs said.

"Appreciate it." Hotch gave the man a small smile.

"Dinozzo, Ziva," was all he needed to say before the two NCIS agents follow the two FBI agents out the door.

David Rossi couldn't help but smirk. In his long tenure as an FBI agent, he's heard about how this Leroy Jethro Gibbs operated. Word on the street is that he's tough as nails and doesn't play well with others which is probably why every time there's some interagency snafu with NCIS, the agency sends Fornell. Because, Fornell married the guy's ex wife.

But from what Rossi could see, Gibbs didn't seem to have a problem with Hotch. _Two silent drill sergeants_, he thought amused. What was interesting to see is that Gibbs' seemed to have trained his team to know what he wants just by saying their names.

Reid, across from him, cleared his throat. "Hotch, I can go help too," he offered, weakly. Poor kid, having to read files about his friend that he never knew about. Whatever's written there couldn't have been good because their youngest was as pale as a ghost.

"Sorry Reid, I need you here," Hotch answered as gently as he could. "We're about to make contact about the medicine they've requested."

Rossi saw the kid press his lips together and nod.

"Garcia, I need you to record the conversation," Hotch ordered.

"Ready when you are, my liege," the analyst replied moving to another computer before giving Hotch a nod.

"Hotch, maybe Agent Gibbs should take this one. Just a way to tell Ms. McKenzie that we got her message loud and clear," Dave suggested.

"I was thinking the same thing," Hotch agreed.

"Now Agent Gibbs, we're trying to play this as non confrontational as possible. Right now, we just want the injured party, that's your Director Vance," Rossi instructed.

"Sure, this ain't my first rodeo," The older man answered coolly.

"Garcia?" Hotch called out.

"Recording, sir."

Rossi pressed the call button and after a few rings, they were connected. But what they heard wasn't what any of them would have wanted. Rossi saw Reid hide his trembling hands underneath the table when they heard a scuffle, "Hey!...What the-" The sound of skin impacting skin and something crashing to the floor reverberated in the room. They heard a girl take a deep breath before she said, "Hello?"

"You alright, kiddo?" Agent Gibbs asked.

"Peachy," was her sullen answer.

Rossi saw the expression on Gibb's face turn from a frown to murderous and Reid's concern turn into a lip twitch and an angry staring contest with the speaker phone. One word. All she had to say was one word to create this effect on the two people in the room that knew her best.

Worryingly, there wasn't any tapping sound.

"They're asking who this is? You're not Agent Rossi."

"Name's Agent Gibbs. Rossi needed more coffee so you're stuck with me," Gibbs answered evenly. "So about this medicine the requested- I'll give them as much as you need if they let the injured guy go."

There was a pause, no doubt the rouge marines were discussing their options. Rossi saw the NCIS agent's hands balled into a fist. "Stuck with me," that's what Gibbs had told the girl so casually. Another phrase that was so simple but spoke volumes. Gibbs was definitely not going anywhere and he let her know it.

"Guy can't walk out through the door, Gibbs," the reply came softly.

"Then tell them no medicine," Gibbs retorted.

"They said that Agent Rossi agreed."

Gibbs shot him a inquiring gaze and Rossi shook his head, hitting the off mic on the switch. "I never said I would give them the medicine. I asked what they needed," he explained.

Gibbs gave him a nod, turning the mic back on. "Agent Rossi didn't agree to anything. He asked what they wanted and that's about it, kid."

"They're asking if you're ready to sacrifice 13 people just to save one."

"My basic training tells me to assume that you're dead, kid " Gibbs continued to argue. "Medicine for the one guy. Ball's in their court," he said before he pressed the button to hang up.

Rossi saw Hotch grab the agent on the shoulder, confused and afronted. "What are you doing? What about that is non confrontational? Basic training tells you that she's dead? What is that?"

"Hotch they're...they're hurting her." Reid took a deep breath. " Peachy. That's what she said. She doesn't like to hold peaches because they...they bruise easy," he explained quietly.

Gibbs gave him a nod and glared at Hotch. "Galahad McKenzie taught his daughter not to give in. She's not going to panic. She's not going to show fear. She's going to look like she's unfazed and that's not something these guys want. You don't go in with minime's if you don't want to scare people," he said. "So I told her to play dead."

"You told her to comply so she won't get beaten up," Hotch realized.

"What else did you tell her?" Rossi asked carefully, feeling like the agent just had a very different conversation with the girl. "What didn't we hear?"

Agent Gibbs shrugged. "I asked her if we can storm the place. She said too many casualties because there's only exit she can see. Probably guarded," he enumerated.

"And you think she knows you got all of that?" Rossi asked.

Gibbs replied with an _are- you- kidding- me_ expression. "I'm trying to keep the only asset we have in there alive. You have a problem with that, Agent Hotchner?" he challenged, dragging out the syllables of his name cockilly.

Ah. There it is. That reason why relations with NCIS was strained. _The clash of the Alpha males_, Rossi thought. Thankfully, the phone started ringing before Hotch could answer. With a nod from Garcia, Hotch and Gibbs, he hit the button to answer. "Gibbs," the agent sort of barked.

"They're letting him go. Exchange in fifteen minutes. They want only one guy to make the exchange. The medicine should be on a metal tray. They don't want any funny business. No small talk. No magic tricks up your sleeve. I suggest a doctor make the exchange for obvious reasons," they heard Summer say.

"Roger that, kid. Fifteen minutes," the agent agreed. Then the line went dead.

Rossi watched the agent's frown deepen. Did he miss something again? Conversations within conversations isn't really his style. "What's wrong? What did she want?" he asked.

Gibbs sighed uncomfortably. "Do you know a doctor who can do magic?"


	7. Chapter 7

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Now officially a cross over :) Enjoy?

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Abby Scuito stared at the elevator willing it to open. They told her to be on standby and Tony called her not 10 minutes ago for some requests that normally be McGee's job which McGee can't do because he was doing something else in the hotel. She did it. She called every ship and every officer, giving as little detail as she could as Tony instructed. But he didn't answer any of her questions or give her any information either. Ziva was being just as difficult.

She couldn't wait any longer.

So when the elevator finally dinged and the doors slid open, she was ready to pounce. "Tony! Ziva!"

The agent backed away in surprise. "Abby!" he returned, moving passed her.

She trailed the two agents she did know, while shooting wary glances behind her at the two unknown people following them. "What's going on? Is Leon okay? Is Summer okay? Gibbs says they're both fine. But he has that tone, you know. Like he's just telling me that so I wouldn't worry. So tell me the truth, Tony. It's got to do with marines right? That's why you asked me to call all those people asap," she nagged in one breath.

"Abs, Abs," Tony placed both his hands on her shoulders, in an attempt to keep her steady. "Summer's one of the hostages. She was tricked into going in. Director Vance is in there too and a far as we can tell, Summer's taking care of him. So they're both okay for now, alright?" he replied, trying to soothe her nerves.

She stared at the man, dumbfounded. "What? That's terrible news. What exactly is your definition of okay, Dinozzo?" she exclaimed.

"Don't worry, Abby," Ziva said, calmly sliding into her chair, "Gibbs is there."

"Not to mention Reid's going to be inconsolable if things go wrong," a raven head girl added.

"Who's Reid?" Abby marched up to the two strangers appraising them. _Too pretty_, she thought immediately. The tall well built African American could be in a soap opera. And the lady could easily pass as a movie star. "Who are you? Why are you here" she asked. "Ziva, who are they? Why are they here?"

"SSA Derek Morgan," the man said, giving out his hand which she shook tentatively. "SSA Emily Prentiss," he introduced his partner, who did the same thing. "We're from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Abby eyed them again, unimpressed. "Why are we playing with the FBI? They're marines right? This is an NCIS case."

"Because Abs,there are high profile hostages involved and the BAU, them, got the call first. Didn't know about the marines until now, " Tony replied with a shrug. "Aaaaaaand, the boss said so."

Abby crinkled her nose at her friend. "Sounds un- Gibbs like."

"Not that boss, Abs. The boss. Of the USA," he shot back. "And I don't mean Bruce Springsteen."

Abby paused for a moment. "Oh."

"Abby Scuito is our forensic expert," Ziva explained to the two visitors. "What do you have for us Abs?" She prompted.

Abby gave them a small bow before heading to McGee's desk to get the clicker. "The question is what don't I have for you. I started with calling the ships but then they weren't as forthcoming as I hoped they would be. So I went to MTAC and demanded to have a little chat with SecNav because you know, you told me that Leon's been shot. And Gibbs wasn't here and you weren't here and Ducky isn't here so, you know, it's just me. And I'm telling you that SecNav is a nice guy." she reported.

"Abby? The good bits?" Tony prompted.

She waved the clicker like a wand. "I'm just getting to that. So, with SecNav's help, everybody got a cafpow and started cooperating," she said, clicking on the screen so that it had little boxes of documents. "I had them check their weapons locker for the guns you mentioned. Only one ship was missing guns and it docked two days ago. This, friends, is where it gets weird," she said, clicking so that the picture of Steven Nichols was on screen. "Remember him?"

"Yeah, Petty officer Nichols," Ziva frowned.

"For the folks who weren't here, this guy is in pure shock but confessed to lighting his house and family on fire. Starting with his wife," Tony told the FBI agents. "The details are ugly."

"But remember how Gibbs said it didn't sit well in his gut?" Abby reminded them. "Well, this petty officer was part of a unit of six," she revealed, clicking to produce five more pictures side by side. "Nichols was their communications guy. I asked for their files and they should be emailed to you within the hour. I'm trying get a hold of the other five's family but noone's answering their phones. Probably still sleeping. But I do have their superior's number and he's waiting for your call," she said. She turned giving them a definite nod. "Guys, my gut is telling me that something fishy's going on. Rule 39," she declared.

"No such thing as coincidences," Tony stated in musing.

"We were thinking that the Nichols case was a murder before he confessed to it," Ziva said.

"So now we're back to it being a hit. So much for cased closed," Tony continued. "And in the mean time, the A-team over there is terrorizing the hotel."

"Maybe they had a disagreement on the plan of action?" Ziva suggested.

"Highly unlikely," SSA Emily Prentiss interjected the NCIS pow wow. "We did a preliminary profile of the five of them before you guys came in. We profiled them as extremely organized and motivated individuals. They were well prepared to take the ballroom. They knew where the cameras are an everything. But what did they do when one of the hostages got hurt? They called a doctor. An outsider of the ballroom and they chose the one who travelled alone even when there are other doctors in the building with more credentials," she argued. "If that's how they treat a hostage, think about how they'd treat a friend."

"Semper fi, Ziva," Abby agreed.

"Prentiss, if that's the case, and these guys are doing this under duress then the inconsistency of their actions might mean that they were only ordered to take the ballroom. They might be awaiting instructions from the real unsub on what to do next. We should look at these guys as victims," SSA Morgan said, taking his phone from the belt clip. "I'll call Hotch."

"I'll call, Gibbs,"Ziva offered, phone on hand.

Abby saw Tony produce a giant size caf pow from under his desk like magic. Her eyes grew wide. How did he do that? Where did it come from? Who cares?

"Good job, Abs," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek with the drink then going back to work. Abby grinned as she took the sip of her cafpow. She turned around facing the six faces staring at her, proud that she was able to help. _We'll get him, boys_, she silently swore, _Just don't hurt my friends_.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"We're getting you out of here, bud," a whisper told him.

Leon Vance willed his eyes to open meeting the doctor's blue eyes. "My... My wife?" he tried to say.

"Sorry. Just you. You're the one who needs an actual hospital, " the girl apologized. "I'm going to hoist you up now."

Pain seared through his being when his shoulder was moved and a dizzy spell took hold when he was finally upright. He tried as much as possible to carry his own weight, but his legs felt like jello. When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, they were somehow facing a door, waiting for it to open. That's when he took a sideways glace at the doctor that was holding him up.

Something definetly happened while he was unconscious. There was an angry bruise forming on the cheek. There was a small cut on her eyebrow and he was pretty sure, her lip was cut. A ghost of a smile formed on his lips knowing full well that Gibbs was not going to be happy that his little friend was hurt like this.

The door opened and they were both shoved forward. Vance could feel the girl's arm tighten around him in the attempt to keep them both from falling down. It was there he saw one young man holding a metal tray with two small boxes. He saw the man tighten up when they were pushed forward once more. Suprisingly, Vance saw the girl unable to make eye contact.

_What the hell does she have to be guilty about?_ He wondered.

"Put the man down on the ground slowly," one of their captors instructed.

The girl complied. Vance felt himself slowly being lowered to the floor. She made sure to prop him up against a post not four steps away from them. "Tell Slim I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry," she whispered, as she did one last check on his bandages.

"Now get the medicine," the man barked.

Vance watched helplessly as the girl left his side, walking slowly towards the man with the tray. The young man looked like he was about to say something but decided against it. He saw the girl walk backwards, just as she was told, tray on hand, head bowed.

The doors closed.

And the circus rushed in.

ooo0ooooooo0o0o0o0

_NO_, he almost screamed out loud. How dare they! How dare they just let that man go? Vance is essential to his plan. If there was anybody they could've let go it's that new comer. Don't they understand? He chose to do this here for a reason. This isn't a numbers game. They can't just replace one person with another person. Thats not the way it works.

Fortunately, he's already thought of this possibility.

He placed his hands under the table so that nobody could see that he was tinkering with his watch. He could do this in his sleep. Practice makes perfect after all.

A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. He turned and saw the doctor they had called in give him a strained smile while one of the soldiers stood behind her carefully watching her every move. "Excuse me," she said, waving a pen. "You need an insulin shot, right?"

"Right," he nodded, rolling up his sleeve quickly.

"Ready?" she asked.

He felt the needle prick his skin. A few seconds delay won't change the plan. He's still bent on getting even. If they weren't going to follow instructions, then their loved ones would have to pay.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Now officially a cross over :) Enjoy!

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Timothy McGee grunted as crawled through the ventilation shaft as silently as he could. As far as he knew, he wasn't clasutraphobic. If he was, he would have had a big problem with Abby's coffin- slash- bed. No, this has nothing to do with the enclosed space he had to crawl through but more with the fact that there was barely enough room for a grown man like him to squeeze through. _It's a good thing Tony's not here_, he thought as he pulled himself forward with his forearm. He was pretty sure that the other agent would mercilessly make fun of his military crawl through the metal shaft.

Something along the lines of being a baby- in more ways than one. Or maybe a movie quote. Maybe, from Major Paine.

McGee took a deep breath when he reached the point he needed. _This isn't the time to think of Dinozzo_, he silently told himself. _You have to unscrew this vent, reach out into the ballroom and stick a small webcam as close as possible to the original security camera so it would have a view of the place. Not looking at a long sheet of decorative cloth._

Tim McGee got to work with a screwdriver from his pocket. This wasn't some easy task. This was very spy like. He quite belived this was something James Bond would do.

Getting the vent unscrewed was the easy part. The harder bit was actually reaching in and mounting the webcam. Not only couldn't he see what he was doing, but he was also sticking his hand into the ballroom. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, holding the small webcam in the palm of his hand.

_Don't look up. Don't look up. Don't look up_, he chanted as he very slowly reached in, past where the cloth covered the vent. In his ear piece, he could hear a female voice, the tech analyst Penelope Garcia, whisper, "Go on. Go on. Some more," telling him that they aren't getting anything yet.

"Okay. We're in business, McGenius," the chirpy analyst notified him.

McGee pulled back his hand as fast as he possibly could. Although, he must admit, it's pretty cool what a little mounting tape and a cheap network camera could do. Granted, he didn't think this was any kind of replacement for real surveillance camera. But it doesn't have to be perfect right? It just needs to work.

They needed eyes on the place and that's what he's provided them.

He didn't bother putting the vent back. Who the hell was going to care? The people in the ballroom couldn't see the vent anyway because it was behind layers of hanging cloth. However, as he tried to turn to head back, McGee realized the downfall of his plan.

He couldn't turn. Of course, he couldn't turn. The shaft was too narrow.

This escape was something he did not think through.

This was so un-spy like.

James Bond would never be caught without an exit strategy.

Timothy McGee huffed. How the hell was he going to get out?

0oooooo000000000ooooooo

Ziva stood in the wreckage of what was once the home of Petty Officer Steven Nichols and his family. From what they gathered from pictures from friends and family, it was a quaint single story house with a spacious living room area with a small door that led to the hallway that connected three bedrooms. They all looked happy in those pictures. Abby had told her that those people with bright eyes and wide smiles fueled her to make the most accurate recontruction that she had ever made.

So why they had to drive all the way to crime scene baffled her. The computer reconstruction could tell them everything without having to leave NCIS or standing in the cold in the middle of the night. But she complied to the FBI agent's request. The same FBI agent that was now walking around the wreckage while holding a pen light to the folder he had on hand.

She stood patiently waiting for him to finish his on site evaluation. Surprisingly, the man hasn't said a word which was worlds apart from what she was used to with McGee and Dinozzo. The latter would have already made a movie reference by now. "Have you found anything useful?" she asked, when he bent down and took something off the ground, lifted his gaze and seemed to look elsewhere for a moment.

Agent Morgan's eyes narrowed at her. "You haven't moved...?" he realized.

"I have not," she confirmed. "Now, did we miss anything?" she inquired a bit more haughty than she would have wanted to come across. Ziva took a pride in their work. To have another agency double check what they already had was not only an insult, it was a waste of time. Something those people in the ballroom did not have.

"We mean no disrepect with your work, Agent David. But in the BAU we've been trained to focus on behavior and this crime scene tells about his behavior," the agent explained and apologized at the same time. "For example, the fact that he waited for everyone to be home before he detonated means that he is patient. He wanted maximum results with minimal effort, which means extreme pre planning," he said.

_Obviously_, Ziva mentally noted derisively.

"Now, usually, that kind of patience would entail casing the place for a period of time to learn the family's schedule. But your report said that the neighbors didn't see anything unusual," he continued.

"Yes that is right. Mr. Morris over there," she pointed diagonally to the two story house across the street. "He is hypervigilant with security. He has installed cameras in his property and one of them has a clear view of this house. Another one has a clear view of the street. We watched a month worth of footage, Agent Morgan."

He nodded. "Which tells me that if he didn't check on the place, there must be another way he can be sure that everybody who lived in this house was in this house at-" he paused and flipped through th pages until he found the right one, "8:03 pm." He frowned. " Now if there was nothing out of the ordinary out there," he said, pointing at the street, "then there must have been something out of the ordinary in this house. There was something inside this house that triggered when Mrs. Nichols went to do the laundry. The unsub had another way of knowing," he conjectured looking at the debris.

"How?" Ziva challenged.

Agent Morgan simply shrugged. "We once had an unsub who installed small wireless webcams in his victims' houses and to record his attacks. The family didn't even notice. Another guy, Hankel, he was a computer tech support. He watched his potential victimes via their computers. One way or another, the unsub knew the Nichols were home. All except the petty officer. And it makes sense to believe him when he said he did this," he finished, taking his phone out.

"So why, Agent Morgan, would the petty officer admit to something he did not do? she asked.

"Guilt," he simply answered. "What this scene tells me, Agent David, is that we have an extremely meticulous unsub. He's patient. He's creative. And by the state of the petty officer now, the unsub did this to torture him. Makes me this is a message- you took mine, so I'll take yours," he mused before, raising his phone to his ear. "Hotch, I think we got something here..."

Ziva raised an eyebrow watching the agent talk to his superior about their new theory. To have gotten all of this information just by walking the crime scene was almost impressive. This was new. This was good. She almost smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Now officially a cross over :) Enjoy! happy weekend!

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Penelope Garcia watched the young man beside her stare intently at the screen that showing what was happening in the ballroom. Tables and tables of people sitting down quietly while four men patrolled keeping them prisoner. In one corner, on the floor, sat one Summer Wind McKenzie, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, head bowed but steadily watching.

"You ok, hun?" she gently asked their youngest.

Reid gave her a flat smile, tearing his eyes off screen for a second. "I've been better," he replied. "Why?"

"You've been stirring your coffee for the past three minutes," she quietly pointed out.

Almost automatically, Reid stopped, eying his cup of coffee like he didn't know it was there. "Oh." He placed the spoon down an fidgeted with his fingers instead, eyes glued back to the screen. "It's just..." he said, momentarilly. "I don't understand why she asked Director Vance to tell me she's sorry. I mean, I can't say that I wasn't upset to find out she's never once mentioned anything that was in that file because I was. But after the initial shock, you know, everything makes sense," he rambled on.

The tech analyst smiled but knew not to interrupt. He kept so much to himself, even to his own team mates who he considers his friends that she was sure this is what he needed. He needed to let it out. It must be overwhelming to watch a loved one in constant danger. It was just her and Rossi in the room now anyway. Agent McGee hasn't returned back since installing the camera and Agent Gibbs and Hotch had to step out, yet again, to talk to superiors.

Reid sighed. "She couldn't have told me even if she wanted to anyway. I know her well enough - not going to say anything if it isn't her secret to tell. She doesn't talk about my stuff to the other agents and she doesn't tell me theirs either. That's just the way she is. What more if the information she knows is top secret," he continued ranting. "And in hindsight, this information actually clears up a lot of things. Do you know that I've never seen her panic? Not ever. She always seemed to be hyper aware of her surroundings..." he shrugged.

"Like she spotted us last night?" Rossi offered.

"Yeah! Exactly! That's been going on since we were kids. It's like she can spot a bully from a mile away. In fact, she never seemed to be afraid confronting people who were bigger than her or any of that. She's gone through all these other... events that all of _that_ is probably second nature to her. She probably doesn't realize that she's doing it. She's doing it right now. She looked up to the camera before we even told her it was there," he let out in one go. "The only reason I can think of for her to apologize is if she..." Reid stopped and lowered his gaze. "If she knew she wasn't..." He stopped again, taking a deep breath.

I_f she knew she wasn't coming out alive, _Garcia thought sadly. "Hey, she'll be fine," she said, patting Reid's shoulder. "You know, you can talk to her now," she suggested. "She can hear you. She can answer yes or no questions with her hands."

Reid shook his head, sadly. "Agent Gibbs told her that we're maintaining radio silence. I... I don't want to scare her into thinking something's wrong in our end," he said.

The boy slumped further into his seat- the complete opposite of what he was the night before. Garcia wanted that guy back- the Reid from last night. That man seemed unburdened by anything. Not once did his smile falter. Of course, it took a few minutes for his friend Summer to warm up to them after what they did but once the drinks came, everything went fine. Reid was the type to embarrass easy but he didn't even mind when Summer told them about the time her father wanted to teach them both how to surf, or how he couldn't catch the frisbees. Or when she told them how Reid tricked her into watching seasons and seasons worth of Star Trek. Garcia even pointed out that the two friends seemed to have their own language consisting of face scrunches and head tilts and, suprisingly, he quipped back with a snappy, "If you cut out enough cereal coupons, we'll send you a decoder ring," much to the shock and amusement of everyone around the table. Which lead to another round of drinks.

He even complained when they decided to call it a night early.

The sound of a door slamming shut told Garcia that she should probably get back to work compiling information on every one of those guests. Three federal agents entered, two grumbling and one silently gesturing for them not to ask. "Politics," Agent McGee mouthed to them as he took a seat behind a computer and started working.

"There's been some developments," Hotch said, as he took a croissant from the food table. "All of this might be related to NCIS' last case. Agent David is took Morgan to the last crime scene and Morgan said that these men might be doing this under duress. Unsub might be holding their families hostage. Prentiss and Agent Dinozzo are talking to this team's commanding officer. Meanwhile, Agent McGee is going to be printing out copies of what they had."

"Printing two copies right now," McGee confirmed.

Garcia raised an eyebrow. If anything, these NCIS agents were impressively efficient. She's been noticing more and more that they seemed to have this weird rapore. They thought Hotch was quiet but he pales in comparison with this Agent Gibbs. One look was all Agent Gibbs needed to shoot at his team and they spring into action.

"Guys, somethings happening," Reid suddenly announced, pointing at the screen infront of them. "Garcia, I think they're getting a call-"

"The camera has a small mic. It's not going to be hi def and I have to plug in a few filters but-" McGee shrugged as he put on a pair of earbuds and started typing.

"But it'll do McGee," his boss finished for him.

"Following the signal as we-" Garcia started to say but stopped. "Hotch," she paled as she read the information that was coming into her screen. "Hotch the call is coming from the internet. It's being pinged around several servers..." she reported.

"The call is over," Reid quietly informed them.

"McGee!" Gibbs called out.

Agent McGee raised his gaze with an expression of utter confusion. "Boss, they didn't say anything."

Penelope continued on her search following the trail the call left behind. This was the problem of calls over the internet. She didn't just need to triangulate towers. A call from the United States could pop up in a server from Europe. But she persevered anyway, if nothing more than to ease the mind of the overthinker sitting beside her.

The information she found however, was not something that she liked. "I know why they didn't reply to anything," she said, downloading the file that she saw on screen. "The call was a recording."

"A recording from the internet?" Rossi asked, looking up from the navy files.

"Do you have it, Garcia?" Hotch asked.

She nodded.

"Let's hear it," Hotch instructed.

With one press of a button, the tech analyst shrank in her seat. The robotic, modified voice of the unsub filled the room. "You let one go. Kill seat 6 table 12 or the Torres' die."


	10. Chapter 10

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Now officially a cross over :)

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Helpless. Being unable to help oneself. Lacking power or control. In French, Impuissance. In Italian, Indifeso. In Manderin, Wuzhu de. Whatever it was it is in whatever language she happened to know, this must be the picture beside that word.

She never had a picture beside that word before. Her father always told her that there's always a solution, she just had to find it. He always said she always had a choice. Doing nothing is also a choice. He always said that the correct choice is the one a person can live with. Mainly because a person literally can not live knowing that he or she caused another person irrepairable harm.

And that's what she's done. Sure, she ran away from Bobby Singer but she's mended that fence in recent years. They were good now. She once swore to give up the monster business but found herself right back in it when the monsters were in her town because she can't possibly let people get hurt or die when she knew she could prevent it. She tried as much as she could to help the Winchesters out whenever they called. She's flown and driven in and out of Indianna to check on Lisa and Ben for Dean. She did what she could for her mother's archeology friends, for Gibbs, and Fornell and Sir Rodney and everyone- She's done everything she could with the time that she had.

Just like her parents taught her.

Helpless was just never in her vocabulary simply because no matter how hard the situation had become, there was always a way. A crawl space. A ledge. A hidden little something to make it all better. If the Winchesters could go against the stars and throw a wrench into the literal end of the world, then why couldn't she find a way out of this particular situation? A room full of people being held hostage is totally not in the same level of the apocalypse. This pales in comparison- dust in the cosmos.

"There isn't even one demon involved," she whispered to herself as she hugged her knees. She can make a run for it and risk getting shot down. But then if she makes it, she would've left a room full of people still in trouble. She can't walk away. One on one versus a marine didn't sound so bad but there were four healthy marines and one injured and all five of them were heavily armed and trained. These weren't hunters. These weren't street thugs. They weren't drunk tough guys in the roadside bars she oftened or jerks walking down the street. No, they were marines – the relative equivelent of her father's special forces friends- there were five of them.

"Five Gibbs'," she muttered, shaking her head lightly. If they were this armed, they might also have bombs she can't see. Or at the very least, grenades.

To make matters worse, she knew that one Spencer Reid was out there in another room and she knew when she saw him hand over the medicine and slip the earpiece down her sleeve that he's read _that_ file. The utterly confused and pained expression on his face said it all. _How could you,_ Slim seemed to ask.

But the real answer was more upsetting- How could she not? The correct decision is the one she could live with. And she could live with not telling him something he didn't need to know if it protects him. He didn't need the burden of carrying what she knew. Not the file. Definitely not the monsters. His life is difficult enough without her issues to worry about.

_He must be so upset being in the room with Gibbs and Tony and Tim and Ziva. Being the last to know sucks_, she thought glumly. She would be... for some time. The thing with Spencer however, is that when you're cut off, you're cut off. He's going to put in all possible effort to forget.

That was it. She was going to be in the same list as his dad. A person with eidetic memory doesn't just forget about his father.

It would be a miracle if she even had a friend after this.

A ringing phone interrupted her thoughts. Summer lifted her curious gaze ever so slightly trying to find out if it was just one of the phones that were confiscated. But when she saw their leader raise one to his ear, she could feel trouble brewing. She tugged on the zipper of her jacket, making sure she zipped all the way up to the collar just in case anything happened.

"Tammy?" One of them asked.

"Seat 6. Table 12," the man replied, grimly.

_Table 12? That's only two tables away, _Summer thought, spotting the table in question. It was one of the larger tables nearest to the divider that seperated the salons. Ten people sat around the table. Three older gentlemen, two older ladies- one of which she recognized as a politician. Four younger men, probably somewhere in their mid thirties and one younger lady she recognized as one of those socialites born into a political household. But which one was seat 6?

Two soldiers came, the leader and the twin of the injured marine. Summer watched as they beelined for the female politician. Her eyes grew wide when she saw that the twin marine was reaching for his pistol even before they reached their target. _They're going to kill her,_ she realized, instinctively readying to move as she signed the letters K-I-L-L hoping that someone was watching the camera feed. Hoping that something would be done before they executed her.

Infront of everyone.

_Who does that?_, her mind screamed

But there was nothing coming through her earbud. The silence was deafening. She counted the footfalls the men took with bated breath, waiting for an instruction from the other end that she could maybe follow. They took two more steps forward and she still had nothing. _Come on_, she quietly pleaded, _Please_.

Bring in the SWAT. Bring in something.

Anything.

"Ma'am," the man named Tammy said while the other fully unholstered his pistol.

Summer saw the older lady freeze. Time had run out. _Screw it_, Summer decided moving into a low crouch. She can't let this happen. There's just no way she can watch someone murder another person in cold blood. Her hand reached for the knife on her left boot but decided against it. What was that line from that movie Tony forced her to watch- You don't bring knife to a gunfight?

It doesn't matter now. Spencer knew about the violence and as much as she disliked the idea, he now gets to watch it first hand. If they manage to kill her then she didn't have to live with this particular decision anyway. There's no such thing as regret when you're dead.

They might be bigger and stronger but hell, she was almost certain she was faster and most defenitely smaller. Summer broke into a run, getting as much speed as possible to have enough momentum to mount the table top and slide to the other side where her foot would hopefully come in forceful contact with the twin's abdomen.

Hopefully.

But like her dad and his buddies always say- Who dares wins.


	11. Chapter 11

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Eye scanners, fingerprint scanners, their own dedicated forensic analyst and coroner, their own evidence garage, and now a mini movie theatre that wasn't a movie theater at all. MTACH, they called it. All Emily Prentiss could call it was cool.

NCIS was definitely not the BAU.

"So Nichols isn't guilty?" the giant face of the company commander inquired. "If he is not guilty, that's good news."

"It's not looking like that anymore, sir. We've reopened the case with the help of our lovely and talented Agent Emily Prentiss," Agent Dinozzo introduced, motioning to her like an awards presenter, grinning.

"NCIS?" the commander asked.

"FBI, sir," Prentiss answered. She saw the man's eyes widened in surprise which wasn't much of a surprise to her anymore after what she heard Ms. Scuito say about their interagency relations. "We just have questions sir."

"Well, shoot.."

"Nichols, Torres, Silvia, Tam, Gonzalez and Linden," Agent Dinozzo enumerated.

"I know NCIS asked about Nichols before, Sir, but now we're interested in how they are as a group," Emily said. "Did they disagree often? Did they fight... That kind of things."

The man just frowned aghast. "Oh no, not them. Those guys are as close as close can get. Tam- Tammy, they call him, keeps them on the straight and narrow. And believe me, that's hard to do with jokers like Silvia and Charger. That's... ah... Charles Linden, he's called Charger because, well, he's the weapons specialist," he said.

"So they all follow Tam's lead? No question whatsoever? All the time?" Dinozzo asked.

"Trevor Gonzalez will for sure. No doubt about it. The kid's new. Quiet. Intelligent. Screwed up his first time out though. Insurgents almost got him if Tammy pulled him out just in time," the Navy officer on the screen recounted. "Silvia and Torres would too, in fact. It isn't in their record but Silvia was under Tammy first and upon learning that his brother enlisted as well, asked for Tam to request Torres. No doubt, you can see they're twins. Parents seperated them when they divorced, Torres got the name change..." the commander shook his head, sadly as he remembered the stories only privied amongst them.

"And Charles Linden?" Dinozzo prompted.

The man almost smirked. "He's in the only unit that can stand him."

"And Nichols?" Emily asked. "Where does Nichols fit in?"

"Ah, Nichols. Tam's second in command. He kept the group grounded. Kind of like a conscience. A real family man. Kept a picture of his wife and kids in his pocket at all times. Which is why it was so hard to believe what happened," he replied with a sigh. "Look, agents. These guys do good work. They check and balance each other out. Welcomed Gonzales in without letting the memory of Trent go. Just plain good folk," he added.

Emily pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. For the first time in this conversation, she found herself suddenly awake. "Sir, you mentioned a Trent?" she prodded. And to the frowning NCIS agent she said, "He's not in the file."

"No kidding," he said, hurrying towards the consoles, where in a small screen she saw Abby's face pop up. "Abby I need you to run something for me..."

Emily saw the commander sigh once more. "That's because he's dead. Two years ago. Iraq."

oo000000000oooooooooo0o0o0o

Somewhere in the middle of Agent McGee coordinating with Metro PD and a man named Ducky to bring family members to the navy yard, Agent Gibbs prepping the SWAT leader, and what was starting to be a fruitful differential, Rossi heard three words from the mouth of Garcia that brought everything to a halt. She said, to the screen infront of her, "Don't do it."

And just like that, Rossi found himself amongst the crowd that circled Garcia's monitor. He caught up enough to see the girl slide on the table and hit one of the marines with the heel of her boot. The marine stumbled backwards, a pistol went flying up in the air when the girl landed on her feet at the other end, right beside a woman- _Seat 6 ,Table 12_, Rossi guessed.

"Garcia, what happened?" Hotch asked.

"Two of them just started going to that table. I thought they were just doing their rounds, you know," the tech analyst replied hurriedly, her voice hitching

"Garcia, focus on that woman. Who is she?" Rossi instructed as he saw the girl disappear under the table, just to tackled the other man beside Seat 6 in a blitz attack. She tackled low and hard, the man fell easy. She stole the pistol he had and in seconds, and after hitting the man on the cheek with its butt, parts of the gun were quickly thrown away in every direction. The first guy made a grab for her while she was diving for the cover of another table- like a rabbit.

She made it.

Barely.

And Rossi was pretty sure he saw that he saw the first guy's pistol in the small of her back.

"She's former Senator Sally Pine," Garcia said. "Career politician..."

"Sintara, stand down!" Gibbs said over the comm when she appeared again, two tables to the right. Only this time, she was being dragged out by her foot. One of the marines managed to find her before she moved to another table. Rossi saw Hotch's mouth fall open when the girl lashed her other foot right at the man #3's face. The hold on her foot was loosened and she managed to wriggle it free. But now, another marine was just steps away, a pistol pointing straight for her.

A small, thin, knife was taken from a dinner table and thrown. Rossi saw the marine lower the pistol when the knife embedded itself on his forearm. She gave marine #3 another kick on the face when he tried once more to grab her and pounced on #4 instead.

He managed to avoid the tackle, getting the kid by the arm and pulling her forward. His knee connected to her middle and Rossi could visibly see the horror on Reid's face.

"McKenzie!" Gibbs snapped on the comm again.

But Rossi could still see her fighting. She took an elbow to the back, right in the middle of her shoulder blades but when she fell, she managed to somehow twist her body, almost like a breakdancer, and sweep the man's leg.

Man #4 fell but Man #3 was already there to take his place, charging forward. The girl braced herself as she managed to use his momentum against him, throwing him over her shoulder just as his buddy came to help subdue her. She tried to get away but she managed only to pass two tables.

The first two marines were closing in on her now. 3 & 4 were up too, cautiously eying her. And by the way she was looking at them, Rossi knew she knew she was cornered.

"McKenzie! I'm telling you to surrender," Rossi could see the agent's white knuckles. "McGee, is this thing working?" he demanded.

"Yes.. yes boss." the younger agent managed to say.

Rossi could see the girl's hand start to move as she readied herself. It wasn't letters this time. It was a quick fluid movement, ending with her fingers shaped like a gun. It looked like she was just loosening her arms but Rossi knew it was deliberate, mainly because everything that's she's done so far has been. "What was that?" he asked when Gibbs reacted confiming his suspicions.

"She said- "They were going to kill her. What the hell was I supposed to do, Gunny?" Addressed to me," Gibbs replied flatly, gritting his teeth when she took the pistol from her back and dismantled it just as quickly.

The four were merely steps away. Rossi was sure she was going to surrender. Where else could she go? And then, he saw her lunge towards a nearby table, and safely roll of it on the other side. "She's offering herself as a distraction," Rossi realized. "She's painting a bullseye on herself. Making them chase her instead."

Marine #2 was the first to get to her though the rest weren't far behind. How someone so much small could have managed to block and dodge away from a much bigger and stronger marine was beyond him. She took a punch to the middle just to catch the man's hand, twist it behind him, kick a knee in, while simountaneously grabbing a plate and smack it right on his temples as she turned to face her next attacker. It was almost graceful.

"Summer, please stop," It was Reid this time on the comms. His voice raspy and dry as he pleaded with his friend. And it seemed to work. The girl paused for a second instead of moving away as she should have if she wanted to continue the chase.

But before Marine #1 could even throw a punch, two gunshots echoed in the Ritz basement ballroom.

It was the other marine. The fifth, the injured one, was guarding the door where a few brave people started to try to escape. The first shot, Rossi realized, was a warning for them to go back to their seats. There was no harm there.

It was the second, however, that made the experienced Agent Rossi freeze. The other marines did quick work with their rebel rouser doctor, forcing her to her knees as she struggled, and angrily spouted out words he couldn't fully understand or hear. She had lost and she knew it. She took a pistol whip to the temple.

The fight was over with former Senator Sally Pine's head fell lifeless on the table, blood bleeding out as the rest of her table screams echoed off the hotel walls.


	12. Chapter 12

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Aaron Hotchner stood, silent, trying to keep his composure in a crowd that was ready to tear his head off in the now very crowded boardroom. Two gunshots fired and this is what government agencies were reduced to- a mouthy bunch of human beings. What were the odds they would listen to reason? What were the odds their tempers would cool. "Please settle down," he said as calm and firm as he possibly could given that he was talking to men and women who probably want more than his gun and shield. God, did he miss JJ right about now.

"Settle down? Settle down?" an older man shouted in outrage. "You've got gunfire in there Hotchner."

"I know," he replied, trying to get the mini riot under control. "We are-"

"What are you doing about it?" an woman replied.

"We're trying to-"

"Trying? It's not good enough. They've been locked in there for four hours now," someone in the back very audibly heckled.

"If you all could just-"

"You should've sent SWAT. Not dilly dallying around on your backsides inside a conference room."

And the community went wild again. Hotch barely contained a sigh when the men and women raised their voices all together once more until all he heard was a constant buzz. Did they think that he wasn't affected at all by all this? He just watched a woman get shot. He just witnessed a young girl get beaten up trying to prevent a murder. His very own people had to see a friend suffer. Did they think any of that was easy?

It was then he spotted one Agent Gibbs at the back of the room leaning against the wall, staring at him. Agent Fornell was beside him and the two seemed like they were having a quiet conversation amongst the noise. Then, Hotch saw Fornell nod, and leave. No doubt the two had some sort of agreement in place leaving him completely out of the loop.

But when he met the older agent's steady gaze, Hotch could feel his quiet confidence transfer into his being. "I repeat. If you could all just-" Hotch tried again.

"SHUT UP!" A snappy bark from behind silenced the group. Hotch was oddly pleasantly surprised when the group turned their collective heads towards one Agent Gibbs of the NCIS. The greying man simply glared at them, without moving from the wall he was cooly leaning against. Noone said a word. "Agent Tobias Fornell is now giving a Sit Rep to your superiors since none of you folk seems to want to listen to Agent Hotchner's explanation," the agent said plainly. "Now, if you would all go two doors to the right, you'll find Fornell waiting for you."

Hotch nodded in agreement and relief. "As Agent Gibbs said, Agent Fornell would be able to answer your concerns," he reiterated.

Hotch watched Agent McGee very pleasantly prompt everyone out of the room and lead them to their destination. They left their seats reluctantly, but unable to say anything else under Agent Gibbs' steady challenging stare. In a few minutes, they were all gone, leaving them the boardroom to themselves again.

Only Garcia and Rossi were openly staring at Agent Gibbs like he was the second coming while Reid was on the phone with both eyes staring at the live video feed. Or at least the tech analyst was. Rossi, was a bit less slack jawed.

"Yeah?" Gibbs prompted.

"I think that's the hottest thing I've seen all week," the analyst managed to say breathlessly earning a wide eyed look and a small smirk from the NCIS agent. "Oh, I'm starting to get red just thinking about it," Garcia managed to add, quickly tearing her eyes away from the older agent.

A smile managed to creep into Hotch's weary face. "Reid, do you have something new?" he asked just as their youngest put his phone down.

Spencer Reid merely scrunched his face at him. "That was Agent Dinozzo using Emily's phone. He said that two years ago, a certain Jeremy Trent was killed in Fallujah. Jason Tam's unit disobeyed orders. But their C.O. agreed after the incident that what they did was the correct considering the situation which cleared them from charges," he said.

"Any relation to the Chief Justice?" Hotch asked, dreading the answer he already knew.

"His only child," Reid answered.

"So, he's taking his revenge on the unit." Gibbs shook his head with dismay. "What do you have for me, McGee?" he asked just as the young agent came in the door.

"Boss, Ducky just called to say that the families are now all in NCIS. He wants to know what to do with them?"

"Keep an eye on them. If these people are targets then they're staying in the Navy Yard. Have Tony and Ziva get a team and sweep their houses for explosives and evidence," Agent Gibbs ordered.

"Yes boss." and the younger agent was out the door again only to come in a few seconds after.

"Sir, it might not be just the marines he's after," Garcia said breaking the silence. " I dug through all these people's lives. All these people- they were all vocal supporters of the war. The former senator especially. She had a controversial Op-ed in the New York Times."

Hotch's brow furrowed as he took his seat. This was going to get complicated fast. One doesn't become a chief justice by not knowing the law. "So what we have is a Chief Justice taking his revenge on the people that may have directly and indirectly caused his son's death," he summarized succently.

"Makes sense," Rossi agreed. "The Food and Beverage manager said that the chief justice was very precise with the planning of his own birthday. He knew the people who were coming. He would have known where they sat. He scope the hotel out whenever he wanted because he was holding an event. And if his son was in the Navy, he could have developed connections and ties that would inform him when these men would be coming in. He's high enough in the system that people won't ask questions," he said.

"Oh wow, I think I get it now boss" McGee said startled, sitting himself down eyes wide with wonder.

"Get what, McGee?" his superior inquired.

"His plan," the agent replied. "It's like a big game of chess. If we send in SWAT, those guys would fight back and we'd have massive civilian causalties in the crossfire. If we do nothing, Justice Trent gets to pull the shots from the inside and order the kills," he explained earning a nod from Agent Gibbs.

"Either way, people die," Garcia agreed. "This guy is a chief justice?"

"But it's all conjecture at this point," Hotch pointed out, frustration growing as his prosecutor experience came to play. "He's a Chief Justice and criminal profiling as evidence is hit and miss. Unless Garcia can track for certain that the internet call came from him-"

"Which I don't think I can because he's using the hotel's wifi," the analyst interjected.

"Then we have nothing but circumstance. If we go in there _now_ and arrest him without hard evidence, considering the connections he has, he walks. End of story," Hotch finished.

"Not necessarily. What..." Reid's lips twitched with hesitation. "What if we can force a sort of confession?" he suggested reluctantly.

Hotch leaned forward confused. "Say that again, Reid? A confession?"

"In the Sina-" the genius paused to take a deep breath. "In the Sinatra file, there was this... Summer was eleven. Their mark was a recluse who liked children. So they sent Summer in. The ruse was that she lost her frisbee," he revealed quietly.

"Her parents sent her to deal with a preferential offender?" Rossi exclaimed in disbelief.

"They had a contract to help another agency. The organization's head basically dictated it. And Mr. McKenzie made sure they had a shot on the unsub at all times. They armed Summer as well and-" he shrugged, " Pretty much told her what she should ask," Reid replied quickly.

The stunned silence in the room was palpable. The NCIS agents seemed surprised but at the same time impressed. Hotch could have sworn the look on Gibb's face was that of pride. "Boss, I'll make sure the camera records everything," Agent McGee said quietly, cutting the silence and earning a look of approval from his superior.

"Ready when you are, agents," Gibbs said coolly

"Reid." Hotch called on their resident boy wonder uncertainly making sure that he looked him squarely in the eye. "Are you sure you want to use your friend like this?" he inquired.

The young agent nodded with grim resolution. "Hotch, I just want to get her out of there as fast as possible," he admitted honestly.

Hotch pressed his lips together but acquiesced to the request. It's true. The doctor had already taken beatings before they could even give her the medicine and yet another one when she tried to stop a murder. Who knew how much more she could take or how long she could last without breaking. "Let's derail him. We need to get under this man's skin."


	13. Chapter 13

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

"Check the laundry. Forensics say that's where the Nichols' started," he instructed to a walkie talkie.

"Copy that, sir."

Anthony Dinozzo watched the men and women of the ATF comb through the house with a careful eye. He took a sip of his coffee as he leaned against the hood of his car. Something wasn't right here. The dogs came in and out of the door and one by one, their handler just gave him a small head shake- negative. The guys in the orange jumpsuits replaced the dogs and their handlers to look at every nook and cranny.

And he observed, from a distance, just like he was told to do. Which, really was quite fine with him. He, for one, didn't want to be blown into itty bitty Dinozzos. And for all the movie references he coud think of for this moment, like how the ATF men looked like astronauts in Armageddon, all he could akin himself to was not the leading man. Yes, today, he wasn't Bruce Willis or Ben Affleck. "It's like I'm Michael Bay," he told himself, "Watching from a distance. Telling people what to do. Kinda nice."

Hopefully, however, there won't be any pyrotechnics today- unlike how most of Michael Bay's movies turn out. Especially since that lovely lady Emily Prentiss was doing the same thing in another marine's house, since they all decided to take one house each. Except for Agent Morgan who decided he could oversee two houses because of his ATF experience. Tony rolled his eyes at the thought because he distinctly remembered the impressed look on the Ziva's face when 'Tall & Dark' declared his intention.

His profile?

Classic overachiever.

Doesn't change the fact that Agent Prentiss could easily be Liv Tyler. "No explosion please. No explosion," he prayed.

"Sir, we have something," his walkie talkie crackled. "Bringing it out." True enough, a man in an orange jumpsuit came out holding several evidence bags. He took his helmet off and approached the waiting NCIS agent, grimly. "Sir, this is not what we were expecting."

Tony stared at the bagged evidence with disbelief. "Pipe bombs?"

"Yes, sir," the man said.

"And the dogs didn't find them?" the agent asked, staring at the pipes wrapped in black electrical tape.

"Sir," the ATF man sighed. "They seem to be made out of sparklers."

Tony paused dumbfounded. "Sparklers. As in fourth of July. Auld lang syne-"

"Yes sir," the man nodded. "Sparklers."

"Really? Sparklers?" Tony almost snorted. "Oh, Abby's going to love this."

ooo0000ooo000ooo000oo

"McKenzie."

_Oh now, Gunny wants to give instruction_, she thought dryly as she tried to blink away the blur that was her vision. She gingerly pressed her a hand on her throbbing temple in an attempt to steady her world view. Her head, her back and her torso painfully complained when she tried to move to a sitting position. But she did so, slowly picking herself off the ground to get her bearings straight.

Her vision stopped spinning Just as she noticed that she was sitting beside the concussed marine who was sitting beside the table with the secured phone line. And he was just looking at her with equal measure of anger and disdain. "Quite a stunt you pulled, princess," he said, making sure she saw the gun in his hand. "You're lucky the boss didn't want you dead."

_Perfect. This must be how the Winchesters felt when they woke up with guns to their heads_, she thought, grumpily eying the soldier with tired eyes.

"Summer, make sure you use words. No eyebrow raising to ask a question. No hand gestures to make a point. McGee says you need to talk at normal volume for the mic to pick you up. Your FBI friend is going tell you what to do," she heard Gibbs on her earpiece once more.

She sighed, bringing her knees to her chest, eying the man beside her wearily. "What?" she snapped, both to the agents outside and the man beside her.

"Just don't try to be a hero again, kid. You won't survive the next time," the marine warned.

"That's..." she heard Spencer nervously say, "That's good... volume wise, Sum. Just like that. I... We need to gain the trust of a marine. The person beside you is Private Diego Silvia. Tell him their families are safe with NCIS. His wife's name is Lauren. His son's name is Scott. Ask him if he knows who they're working for," Spencer's voice quietly instructed.

Summer closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a hand drifting towards a knife hilt in her boot. Unfortunately, the only way she knew how to get an honest answer in stressful situations such as these, was to make the other person even more agitated. The girl briefly wondered if Spencer and Gibbs knew that they weren't asking her to push- they were asking her to shove.

Whatever.

She had her orders.

"Believe me,_ marine_, there won't be a next time," she replied in the cockiest way she could given her circumstance. She watched the soldier quickly turn his head to glare at her.

Silvia immediately raised his pistol to her head just as she lifted the knife from her boot, the tip of the blade just mere inches to his neck. A small squeaking sound on her earpiece almost made her smile. "Twenty one feet, bud," she reminded him.

"I can shoot, you know. Head shot," he threatened.

"Summer, I hope you know what you're doing," she heard Spencer say.

Summer rolled her eyes in response. "Please. If you guys wanted me dead, you would've done so from the get go instead of beating me up," she shot back. "You want to tell me who you're working for?"

"What?" She saw the man falter just for a second. "What are you talking about?" he demanded suspiciously. His hand tightening on the grip once again.

"Come on, man. You're fresh off the boat and you're telling me that crashing a party and holding people hostage is your idea of a fun night?" she challenged but Silvia just silently glared at her. Summer took her knife away from his neck and shrugged as she played with the blade in between her fingers. "You can pull the trigger but it won't make this go away."

"And you can make this go away?" Silvia scoffed with disbelief. "Kid, you're in here with the rest of us."

"True. But I've been playing you since the beginning," she revealed, giving him a small smile. "Check it out- You're Private Diego Silvia of the US Marine Corp. Your ship came in a few days ago and like all good marines, all you want to do is go home to your wife and kid. But someone came and told you to do all this or else your family is dead. Am I getting warm?" she continued, watching the panic grow in his eyes.

Spencer cleared his throat to interrupt. "They have a team member named Petty Officer Nichols who's family was murdered by the unsub," he told her.

She nodded and went on, "Now at first, you all refused. So he makes an example off your buddy Petty Officer Nichols and after-"

"Nichols didn't murder his family," Silvia interrupted.

"I didn't say he did."

"He was set up," the marine heatedly retorted.

She answered quickly. "I'm not arguing with you, bud."

"This is all just one big set up," he continued ranting.

"Yeah. So who's the mastermind?"

"If I knew, we wouldn't be here." He poked her temple with the gun's muzzle gritting his teeth, regretting he ever said a word. He narrowed his eyes in anger knowing that he was so easily tricked. "You-"

"Dude, chill out," she returned raising both hands where he could see them, trying desperately to calm the man down. "I know he threatened your family too. But I'm telling you man, your family is safe. Your wife Lauren and your son Scott- and the wives and kids of the rest of your team- they're safe. They are in the Navy Yard in the custody of NCIS." She watched his gun hand tremble and cringed. How many accidental shots were fired because of an unsteady hand? "Can you just... maybe lower the gun please?" she requested tentatively.

He shook his head ever so slightly. "Not until you tell me how you know what you know."

"Just tell him the truth, Summer. Tell him you've been working with the FBI and NCIS and that the phone will ring with further proof," Spencer related easily enough.

Summer nodded again. "I told you- I've been playing you from the start. I don't tap when I'm nervous- I was sending out a message in morse because I recognize the guy you shot on the shoulder. The doctor that handed me the medicine- he works for the FBI and he slipped me an earpiece down my sleeve," she revealed, carefully and slowly tucking her hair behind her right ear so that he could see the small plug in her ear. "And he says that if you need more proof, you should answer the phone."

The marine growled, pressing the muzzle on her temple. "The phone isn't-"

"Ringing?" Summer finished for him, just as the phone did start ringing.

The startled marine moved back slowly, blindly reaching for the phone with one hand while the other held the gun trained at her. "Hello?" Almost automatically, she saw the man's face soften. And very slowly, the gun went down as he concentrated more on the phone call than her.

Summer breathed a sigh of relief and leaned her head against the solid wall behind her. "Garcia patched him to his wife who's with a man named Ducky. It'll be over soon, Sum," she heard him say. Yes, that explained everything. If the marine was talking to his wife, then he would no doubt hang up the phone with his mind at ease that his family, or any of his friends', aren't in any danger. And the worse the bad guy can do is blow up their belongings which honestly, would be pretty lame.

This was absolutely fantastic news.

_For them, _she thought.


	14. Chapter 14

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Happy weekend :D

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Chief Justice Trent watched the marine guarding the renegade doctor argue with the girl. He might be too far to hear what they were saying but by the looks of both of them brandeshing weapons, it must not have been a lovely conversation. _Kill her. That's it_, he silently cheered, _Kill her._ She's created too much trouble already. She had marines chasing her around like this was a playground, undermining their authority. People tried to escape. It almost ruined everything!

Why they didn't just shoot her down is beyond him. Were they just growing a conscience now?

He watched as the conversation lead into a phone call from the outside. The man didn't seem to have said a word but his expression spoke volumes. The Justice narrowed his eyes as the marine's tough countenance fell apart into something that looked like relief. The phone was put down and he saw the girl just lean her head against the wall and close her eyes all calm like.

_No. My plan is perfect,_ he told himself firmly as the marine left his charge and went straight to his superior in the middle of the room. One way or another, he'll make them pay.

o0000000000ooooooooo0

The elevator door opened and Emily Prentiss found herself walking into a wall of sound. Techno, to be exact. She glanced at the elderly man that had offered to guide her to forensics with an inquiring gaze, "What is that?" she asked as they left the lift.

"That is Abby," Dr. Mallard said, pointing to the open door. "I believe you've met our dear Ms. Scuito earlier dear." Prentiss nodded, though she had to strain to hear what it was the man was actually saying. "The loud music, Agent Prentiss is a good sign," he continued as they entered the seemingly empty lab.

"A good sign?" she prompted.

"Why yes dear. It means she's working hard," the medical examiner said, placing a paper bag on the table.

Emily looked around, confused. The evidence was on the metal tables behind her and she could see the computers infront of her working. The girl in full goth regalia was coming out of what the agent assumed was her office with goggles on, sipping on a giant plastic cup labelled CafPow. But there was something missing. This was a full lab and it only had one person? "Where's her team?" Prentiss inquired.

"Agent Prentiss, we've had a few mishaps in the past. You will find that Abby works alone," he answered, giving the goth a small wave. "Abigail dear," he said, making circles in the air.

Immediately, the goth forensics analyst took a remote control from the table, turning the volume down significantly. " Yes Ducky?" she asked brightly, throwing away her empty cup.

"I have accompanied Agent Prentiss here. I do believe she has questions about the beguiling bombs," he replied, taking a giant cup of CafPow from the paperbag and handing it to her. "Looks like I'm just in time," he commented. "I will return to watching the families now. I have a feeling Jethro will be calling soon. I'm leaving you in good company, Agent Prentiss," he smiled, before heading back to the elevator.

Emily watch the girl hapilly take the beverage before facing her. "You have questions," she said, rather than asked. "Let me tell you what I know first," the goth continued before Emily could even reply. Abby walked to her table with the pipe bombs already dismantled and waved her hands around. "This, Agent Prentiss, sheds some light on why we didn't find much evidence in the Nichols household. Do you know what this is? These are sparklers," she stated taking one piece in her gloved hand. "The majority of fireworks sales in the US of A happen to be sparklers. Lighting a single sparkler is pretty. Lighting a whole bunch of sparklers in an enclosed container- not pretty," she went on.

"Okay. I think we got that part. So why was there no evidence at the Nichols?" Emily replied, not knowing what else to say because it seemed like the girl was in mid rant.

"Because sparklers are made out of very common materials," the goth answered quickly, pointing her remote at a computer that showed a graph with corresponding elements. " This one is your typical aluminium, magnesium, titanium mixed with charcoal and a bunch of oxidizers to let it burn properly. Everything that makes up a sparkler is also used to make your household appliances and electronics and, well, basically, everything in your house," the goth stated.

"So when it goes boom, it would just look like everything else. We did profile him to be meticulous," Emily summarized, dejectedly. "Chances are, he paid cash for this too. That makes it pretty much untraceable."

That's when Prentiss saw the girl crinkle her face, putting down her drink on the table, firmly. "Untraceable?" Abby repeated, with disbelief. "Not if I have anything to do about it. All fireworks sold in the United States have to pass through the Consumer Product Safety Commission. They need to be certified. Even sparklers need to be certified safe per state," she retorted in the most determined manner Emily had ever witnessed.

"So... you can trace it?" Prentiss asked tentatively.

"Agent Prentiss, not only will I trace it. I will get you the brand, the lot number, when it was made, when this was sold, where this was sold and if that place has survaillance cameras, I'll get you that too. Not only for the sparklers, mind you. I'll do it with every piece of possible evidence on that table. That means tape and pipes. And I'll go through every shred of paper he used to stuff the pipes with. I'm going to bury this guy with so much evidence that even a newbie lawyer would win over a jury," the analyst promised, earnestly. " And that's without the other thing I found."

"...The other thing?" the agent prodded.

"Yes, there's another thing," Abby said, typing something on a keyboard. "I was examining one of the pipes and I caught a smudge on the inside. At first, I thought it was just accelerant but upon closer inspection, it totally wasn't," the girl grinned excitedly as she swivelled a screen her way.

Emily tilted her head and leaned in the computer copy, amazed. "Is that a-"

"Smudged print?" the analyst nodded. "Oh yes, that is a smudged print. There's a program cleaning the image on the computer so that the database could actually read it for a definite comparison," she said, handing her a folder. "However, I've also printed out a flattened image- because you know, pipes are cylindrical," she said, pointing at a page with blobby greyscaled ink. "So basically, you follow the shape of the darkest ink which marks the most concentration of stuff, right," the analyst continued explaining. "And you get a general shape of things. So I compared it with the file you guys have on our bad guy," Abby pointed to another sheet of paper.

Prentiss glanced at the two sheets properly. Disregarding the lighter grey tones, she could see what the goth beside her was talking about. This was indeed a print. Or part of a print. And most of the whorl patterns could believably be matched with the cleaner print of their unsub to the left. "It's more or less the same," Emily agreed, amazed. A whole lab full of FBI forensics analysts couldn't have done what this girl did in less than an hour. NCIS is lucky to have her. She was like the Garcia of forensics, only instead of multiple colours, she only had one. Black. "You did all this? By yourself?" she found herself asking.

She saw the delight on the forensics analyst when she nodded, pigtails bouncing. "Nobody gets away with putting a bullet on my director and holding my friend hostage," she warned. "Nobody."

Emily grinned. "Duly noted."

A phone started ringing on the counter. Emily saw the analyst brighten even more, jumping to pick up the phone. "That must be Gibbs," she spat out quickly before taking the phone call without checking the caller ID.

Emily stood, looking at folder's contents once again. "The perfect crime to be undone by one mistake and NCIS saw it," she told herself. "That's all it takes. One mistake." This was the break they were looking for.


	15. Chapter 15

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. MMmmmm i think three or four more chapters and this fic will be done! :)

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

5:34 am, the computer told him.

Spencer Reid watched his friend cradle her head in her hands, take a deep breath then rested her forhead on her knees while she hugged her legs. She's been in there for the past five hours and thirty minutes and he's been in the boardroom carefully monitoring the salon for only about half the time.

Around him, people worked doing what they did best. Garcia was hacking like the wind, getting as much dirt as she could on the Chief Justice. Agent McGee was going through the man's financials with a fine tooth comb and coordinating with their forensics analyst and the other NCIS agents on the field. Agent Gibbs was prepping SWAT on their evacuation plan. Rossi was dealing with the other agencies, telling them to clear out and Hotch- Hotch recalled Morgan and was currently dealing with a phone call from Strauss.

And what was he doing? He was sitting, staring at the screen, wanting desperately to do more. There was no geographical profile to do or handwritting analysis or any code to decode or anything he's been the go to guy for. To think, it was his friend in there in trouble and he can't seem to do anything to help.

These were the times he wished he was a more balanced FBI agent. Someone maybe like Morgan or Emily or Hotch or even Rossi who were equal parts brains and brawn. They could get physical with unsubs without even breaking a sweat. They felt comfortable with a gun in their hand while he just barely passes his exam everytime it rolls by. _Even Summer can go toe to toe with a bunch of marines_, he thought bleakly.

Summer. She took another deep breath, her hand fell to scratch on something on the carpet. Her shoulders hunched as she kept her head low. Spencer watched helplessly as she stopped playing with the carpet to wipe something from her eyes instead. Then she shook her head lightly and took another deep breath.

_Those were tears_, Spencer realized as his heart sank further.

_A few more minutes and you'll be out of there_, he wanted to so badly to tell her but couldn't. Radio silence was instituted once again. They decided it was best not to tell them when SWAT would be breaking in, lest the marines and Summer, herself unintentionally give the timing away to the Chief Justice. All they told the marines was to make sure they didn't resist arrest which would avoid the crossfire that their unsub was counting on to kill people and at the same time minimize panic.

"We're ready," Agent Gibbs announced, walking inside the boardroom wearing a vest and tossing another vest at Agent McGee. Morgan came in right behind him, wearing his own ballistics vest.

"Good. Let's end this game," Rossi said, grabbing his own vest.

Spencer eyed his superior, eyes narrowing with concern. _Game?_

"Reid, are you coming?" Hotch asked as they all headed out the door.

He took one last glance at the web cam's feed and shook his head as he mentally recounted the details of this case. "No," he replied hazily. "There's something wrong here."

"Something wrong?" Agent McGee inquired.

"Yeah. Something isn't right..." he replied, eying the five men ready to walk out of the boardroom and storm the salon with a nagging sense of doubt.

"Kid," Morgan prompted.

"So that's where Summer gets it," Agent Gibbs suddenly sniped, pulling the youngest out of his thoughts. "You maybe want to use your words, doctor?"

He glanced at the screen at his friend, who was now once again, casing the ballroom with steady eyes and nodded. "Okay," Spencer went to the board and waved at the names, "We profiled him as a meticoulous and patient man. He's planned this all from the start. He knew what the marines were going to do and how they were going to do it because he ordered it to be done that way, thus he's hidden a device or a phone that he could use. And all these people are his targets," he started. "Earlier, Agent McGee mentioned that this was like chess. These people will either die from the crossfire or with the chief justice, somehow ordering the kills through the internet calls with pre recorded messages like he did with Mrs. Pine," he continued watching the agents nod. "Here's what's bothering me- there's too much time in between kills. The shooting of Director Vance was a pure accident and in close to six hours, he's only ordered to kill one person," he pointed out.

"And if he had a plan, the killings would be more timed. More structured. Every few minutes. So this guy is counting on us to storm," Morgan deduced.

"Yes. Precisely," Spencer said. "He invited all these people and took them hostage. If our profile is correct, he would have been thorough enough to know to know that his actions would garner this kind of reaction from various agencies. In fact, he's counting for authorities to charge in, because that's what normal procedure is. But then what? Even a crossfire wouldn't kill all these people. There's a possibility that some of them will survive," he continued.

" Which can't happen with an unsub with this level of organization," Hotch added. "There's also a possibility that he'll get shot himself. So he obviously doesn't care about his own life."

"So what you're saying is that this S.O.B is going to take everyone out. Himself included," Agent Gibbs said sourly. "Best way is with a bomb."

"But bomb squad cleared the place," Agent McGee voiced, which oddly enough, earned a headslap from the NCIS team leader. "Forensics didn't find anything in Nichols' place. Right. Sorry boss."

"And the dogs didn't find the explosives in any of the homes," Morgan reminded the group. "So it's safe to assume he's using the same kind."

"And he ordered everyone to take their seats. That's placement. Assuming he's going for maximum effect, that might mean that he's planted one under every table," Rossi concluded with a tired sigh. "This guy is a piece of work."

"It's like a game," Spencer said. "If we go in now, the place blows up."

"I can jam the phone service and cut off wifi. I mean, if that's how the marines got the message awhile ago, he might use the same way with the bombs right? Like that time in New York," Garcia suggested breathlessly.

"Yes. But there's too many lives at risk here already. We need to evacuate the building," Hotch decided, grimly. "Garcia, get out of here and cut off all forms of communications. The rest of us are going to clear the building with the help of every available officer outside," he ordered and to the youngest he said, "Good job, Reid."

Spencer gave him a small shy smile of gratitude before meeting the approving gaze of Agent Gibbs. He took his bag and vest, absolutely ready to work to getting people out of the building. He gave one last look at their view of the ballroom before Garcia cut off the wifi and the screen went black.

_Just a little bit longer, Summer._


	16. Chapter 16

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Leroy Jethro Gibbs eyed the men and women gathered infront of him and Agent Hotchner. Patience was never one of his virtues. However, there was no question that the lives of civilians come first. But it only took about thirty minutes to evacuate the building of its patrons and staff while, for some unknown reason, it took close to fifteen minutes to kick out the other departments and agencies that had come to the street. Too many questions were asked- questions that they could have answered themselves if they just used their heads a bit more.

Hotchner and his team were patient enough to answer some of their questions.

He simply wasn't.

They could talk later. There was no room for chit chat while there was room filled with hostages. The explanations could come after they cleared the building of explosives. Nobody could fathom the relief he felt when he saw his agents Tony Dinozzo and Ziva David enter the fray and after a short consultation with McGee, started to relieve the BAU agents from their nagging counterparts.

"You know that movie, Speed? 1994. The first one not the second. Keannu Reeves and Sandra Bullock," he heard Dinozzo say, taking a group from one Agent Prentiss . "Yeah it's something like that."

Good riddance.

And now they had the building to themselves. It was just them- NCIS, the BAU sans the analyst, a handful of SWAT and ATF. This is all they ever needed- probably more than necessary since they already knew that the marines were not going to fight back.

"If anybody wants to leave, this is the time to do it. Nobody is going to think less of you," Agent Hotchner started.

_Seriously_,Gibbs rolled his eyes but held his tongue. As he expected, nobody moved a muscle. "Alright. We go in smart," he said pointing at the board with the layout of the basement behind him. "SWAT goes in the main door first and breaks the locks to the other four exits. McGee, Reid, Prentiss, Rossi, and Hotchner will facilitate the orderly evacaution of civilians at these exists. Dinozzo and myself will handle the marines. Ziva and Morgan will have the Justice. ATF will deal with the explosives. Paramedics will be on standby. At no point do I want this guy dead. That's what he wants. Let's let him rot in jail," he instructed. "Any questions?"

There was a few 'No Sir's from the few SWAT members that carried the sentiment of the group.

He nodded. "Move out."

Everything went like clockwork. SWAT used a battering ram to enter through the first door- the same door that they used to take Vance out and take in the medicine. There were a few screams from inside from shocked guests. He heard Hotchner give precise instructions to the crowd when he entered. Their agents spread out to man the exits as people hurriedly filtered out and ATF was signalled to come in.

"Marines, weapon's on the floor, hands in the air." he barked, eying them as they did what they were told. "Against the wall, all of you." he pointed to his right.

"I got them boss," Dinozzo said, coralling the marines, making sure they face the wall with their hands on their heads.

Gibbs nodded, keeping an eye on Ziva and Morgan as they tried to find the Justice out of the thinning crowd. "McKenzie!" he called out into the emptying room. By the corner of his eye, he saw a girl slowly rise from the floor from the opposite wall. She stood steady as she waited for people to just rush out of her way instead of fighting her way through. The NCIS agent frowned at the sight of a thrashed and blood stained friend. "Is that suppose to be a badger on your shirt?" he asked eying the little black and white cartoon animal peeking out of her zipped jacket.

He watched her roll her eyes and smirk. "You sure took your sweet time, Gunny," she retorted, making a small circle in the air and pointing to the ground before folding her arms against her chest.

_Safety zone_, Agent Gibbs understood. He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. If she was still answering like that, he reckoned she was fine. Which is the complete opposite of what the chief justice was, as Agent Morgan shoved him out of the crowd trying to exit where Hotchner was stationed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Morgan asked as he took the man by the collar, placing hin against a wall. "Hands up, you're under arrest."

"For what charges?" the man exclaimed, adjusting something underneath his sleeve. "I'm the victim here! This is my birthday party and those men-" he pointed at the marines in anger, "Those men crashed it and.. and... HEY!" he cried when Ziva took his arm and rolled up his sleeve.

"Nice watch," Ziva commented, unbuckling it from his wrists and quickly examining it. "It's a phone wristwatch, Gibbs," she announced.

"Cool," he heard Tony say. "Gotta check that out later."

"Tony," Gibbs warned. "Ziva."

His probitionary agent nodded. "Chief Justice Trent, you are under arrest for the murder of Petty Officer Nichols as well as the attemptive murder of-" she started to recite as Agent Morgan pinned the man's hands behind his back.

"You're arresting the wrong man! The people you should be arresting are right there," the Justice insisted.

"Oh, give it up, man" Morgan replied, reaching for his cuffs. "Forensics have your prints on the inside of one of the bombs. And I know for a fact we can track the kill order of Sally Pine into that fancy watch of yours. It's just a matter of time."

Gibbs watched as one hand was cuffed but the man was still squirming, resisting arrest. He saw the anger rise in his eyes as he struggled against the younger and bigger FBI agent. His gaze wandered, darting from person to person like he was looking for someone or something. But the man somehow got loose, and a small scuffle took place as he tried to get himself out of the grasp of the two skilled agents. The chief justice lashed out. Ziva had slammed the man against the wall in response. "Stay where you are!" Ziva ordered

It was then that the Justice did something he could never expect. He fell to the ground and lunged for Agent Morgan. The older chief justice managed to tackle the agent to the ground and hurriedly reached to take something out of the inside of Morgan's pant leg.

A gun.

The Justice had a gun and raised it, aiming across the room in less than a second as Ziva brandished her own weapon.

Gibbs quickly turned to see who he was aiming for and paled. "McKenzie!" he yelled. He saw the girl raise her questioning gaze and meet his. Then she fell backwards as a gunshot echoed through the room.

It was then, he fired his weapon.

end note:: anybody remembers that Morgan carries 2 guns like Hotch? Yeah. i completely forgot too until i saw a rerun of Penelope


	17. Chapter 17

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Spencer Reid stood peering into the room but half hidden by a corner post of the nurses' station. His hands dug deeper into his denim pockets when Agents Gibbs and an older man, Ducky, stepped closer to the patient's bed side. Ducky gave the girl a fond pat on the head coupled with a brief embrace before moving for the door. Agent Gibbs, oddly enough, gave her a peck on the forehead before following his colleague out the room.

He rocked on his heels. In that room, behind the glass, on the bed laid one of his oldest friends if not his closest. Her face was turned away, facing the window instead of the door. In a way, the scene almost seemed calm if not for the angry bruises he could see forming on her arms or the fact that her hair was now a good three or four inches shorter, grazing her shoulders now instead of the long waves he was so accostumed to. For women, sudden hair cuts, he knew from literature, was a form of self harm. It was a way to cope with psycological stress.

And what a horrifying morning they had.

He could still remember hearing the gunshot, seeing her take one to the chest and fall to the floor while Agent Gibbs shot the Chief Justice's shoulder twice. For a moment, time had stood still. And he couldn't find himself to move. "Bulletproof jacket," he could still hear Agent McGee say breathlessly as he stood next to him. "Summer has a bulletproof jacket."

Bulletproof or not, it didn't help that he knew she saw him just stand there while she got up, aided by Agent Dinozzo and a swarm of paramedics quickly rushed her out through another door. Now he was just standing yet again, staring into her room, not knowing what exactly to do or say while his mind raced through the possibilities of what he may happen.

Today was a day of multiple stressors.

Just the bullet alone was enough to change a man. What were the odds that the unsub would find Morgan's spare glock? What were the odds that the man was a good shot? Inches. If the bullet trajectory were merely 2.5 inches higher, then she wouldn't be sitting on that bed right now.

Where was the rest of the team when he actually needed advice? Oh right. Getting some much needed rest- so they don't go off the deep end themselves.

"Agent Reid," a kindly voice interrupted his thoughts. "I believe we haven't met. I am Dr. Donald Mallard, medical examiner for NCIS. Ducky, the call me," the aging Scottish man introduced himself, shaking his hand. "Jethro has told me how you stopped everyone from committing a potentially disasterous mistake with your profile. I think he's impressed. I know I certainly am. And I tell you, impressing him isn't an easy feat."

Spencer just gave the man a small smile. "That's... um... that's kind of you to say. But it was really a team effort. And Agent Gibbs was the one who saved the day in the end," he was quick to answer.

"Credit where credit is due, kid. Take it in," Agent Gibbs said as he approached the pair. He tilted his head towards the room, "She's doesn't bite, you know," he commented.

The young FBI agent merely nodded. "I was just waiting for you guys to finish," he excused.

"Uh huh," Agent Gibbs replied derisively. "Well, we're done now. Duck, I'm getting the car," he said as he calmly walked away.

"I'll catch up with you, Jethro," the older man replied politely.

Spencer watched the NCIS team leader disappear into the elevator before he asked, "How is she?"

"Summer? She's fine." Ducky gave him a reassuring smile. "Well, physically, she's moderately bruised and battered and they're keeping her here overnight under observation in case just in case too much fluids build up or if they miss a trauma. But she's quite certain there's nothing wrong with her and with her being an actual trauma doctor, I'm inclined to believe she's telling the truth. Pain medication, she says, is all she needs. Aside from rest, of course," he reported gamely. "But that's not what's bothering you, is it lad?"

Spencer eyed the man curiously. "It's not?"

"As I hear it, today's revelation about how her family lived their lives might have come as a shock to you. But we all have secrets, my dear Agent Reid, even from our closest bossom buddies. And the best way to keep a secret is to keep it to yourself. And believe me, I'm sure she holds quite a few more from all of us. But she still is who she is," Ducky replied, sagely. He gave the younger man a few pats on the shoulder before walking off to the elevator. "I will see you again, I hope."

Spencer gave the nice old man a small wave. _Huh, _he found himself thinking. If he learned anything today, it was that NCIS apparently was filled with different characters. They were a motley crew - strict ex marine, the kindly old man, the goofy movie buff, the level headed geek, the goth forensics analyst and the deceivingly tough- as- nails woman.

None of whom could help him now.

He took a deep breath and marched towards Summer's room. He slid the door open and slowly let himself in, watching his friend turn her head and settle her troubled blue eyes at him. "Hey..." she greeted tentatively, raising an arm to wave, but quickly putting it down and under the sheets when she saw that he stared at the large angry blotches starting to turn color.

"Summer, are you-"

"Wait, l think I should do the right thing and level with you first," she quietly interjected. Spencer watched her fingers nervously playing with necklace. "It's not that I haven't thought of telling you everything because I have. At least once every time I see you, actually," she admitted, with a small hesitant smile. "But I always decide not to. Because at the end of the day, a lot of what happens isn't really mine to tell. I just get caught up in things that I've grown up with. I can't seem to just leave it behind, believe me I've tried. But because they're just stuff I can't dismiss, I end up..." she continued, shaking her head with a sigh. " My life is strange and complicated and ridiculous and weird and scary. It's not sunshine and rainbows and I just can't tell you bits and parts of it... But I promise, Slim, I promise, that if it's absolutely necessary for you to know, I'll tell you myself," she swore.

"Like today?" Spencer inquired.

"Today was an absolute fluke," she defended immediately . "But, I totally get it if... if you want to walk away," she added more hesistantly.

"Walk away...?" he prompted, confused.

"Yeah, like... not be my friend... anymore. It's kind of dangerous to be my friend, man. Today's just really messed up and pretty much brought the issue up in my head again...," she said a bit hazily. "So I get it. Totally no hard feelings. I won't hold a grudge with anything you decided," she continued, hugging her extra pillow.

Spencer Reid just stared at his friend with equal measure of disbelief and confusion. _What in the world is she talking about_, he wondered as chills went down his spine. Hopefully, this weird behavior could be explained. He quickly took the chart at the foot of her bed, flipping the pages that described her injuries. He knew she took a hit on the head and according to her chart, she wasn't concussed but the way she was talking, he wasn't so sure.

Today is the kind of day where people just snap- like so many unsubs they've profiled. Or like Elle. Or Gideon. It happens to the best of people.

"Hey, bud," the girl called out. "I'm trying to explain myself here. What are you doing?"

"Checking their calculations on your medication," he answered quickly, his nerves gnawing. "Everything seems to be in order. You're only on NSAIDs. And you don't seem to be concussed..."

"Because I'm not concussed," she said. "At all."

He frowned, eying her bruised form skeptically. "Then maybe I should ask your doctor to send down a psychologist when they get a chance. Just in case. The stress must be-"

"Dude!" she asserted, her jaw dropping in horror, "I'm _so_ not crazy."

"I'm not saying you're crazy, Summer," he replied gently, placing back her chart and slowly making his way to her bedside. "Extreme environmental stress could cause a temporary psychotic break. You're exhibiting what they call in literature as thought disorder," he explained matter- of- factly, " You're not finishing your sentences. You're jumping from one train of thought to another. You're speech is slightly derailed. Coupled with self mutalation-"

"Self- What?" she exclaimed. "Hold on there, partner. I'm not mutalating myself. I'm not," she insisted.

"It's okay, Summer," he tried to soothe, " Women in stressful situations often find release in a haircut."

"Slim, there was _gum_ stuck in my hair. I rolled on under several tables- something snagged. It was the fastest way the doctors knew to get rid of it," she stated flatly. "I'm not having a psychotic break. You're the one who's jumping into the absolute worst conclusions. We doctors call it doomsday thinking," she shot back, rolling her eyes.

Spencer couldn't help but break into a small smile realizing that nothing's really changed. No, she wasn't Elle. She wasn't Gideon. She defintely wasn't anything like his father. As Dr. Mallard said, Summer had physical injuries and that was all. "You're the doomsday one, thinking I'm angry," he replied, crinkling his nose as he heard his own words. "Is that even a term?" He saw her shoulders immediately relax as he sat on the small space and the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his. He could feel a sense of calm settle in her mind when the corners of her lips turned upward in gratitude. "Let me see," he said, reaching out gingerly to examine the cut on her cheek. He flinched at the sight of the mass red purple skin that on her temple and cheek, surrounding the small strip of white bandage which covered the actual cut.

"Don't worry. It'll be gone in two weeks, tops and Abby's lending me some concealer that she uses sometimes for her tattoos," she reassured. "Are we really okay?" She asked in such a child like manner that he couldn't help but give her hand a small squeeze.

"You're being silly again," he replied. "People are the culmination of past experiences. If your life wasn't the way it was, we probably would never have met and we would never have been friends. So of course, we're okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he affirmed with a nod. "Just promise me one thing, ok, Summer?"

"I'll try?" she offered.

Spencer smirked. "Next time someone tells you they've booked you a hotel room, inform them that I've insisted that you stay with me. My couch has your name on it."


	18. Chapter 18

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

His hand felt surpringly empty. It wasn't cold. But it wasn't warm either and that bothered him. Spencer Reid reluctantly opened his eyes, his head lolling to the space beside him, picking up the faint scent of lavender from the next pillow. He frowned when he found the space empty- like his hand.

It was then that he remembered- Summer's leaving today.

_Have to get used to waking up without her,_ he thought glumly. He pushed himself to sit just to find the bright rays of sunshine coming through his curtain annoying. A snowstorm would be nice just about now so her flight would be forced to cancel. But the sunlight persisted no matter how much he willed for the weather to change.

Six days of having his friend around had been a breath of fresh air. Granted, he knew she's been humouring him this whole week. She checked out of the Ritz the second he picked her up from the hospital and he made sure that the room was refunded. Of course, he couldn't let his convelescing friend take the couch event though she insisted it would be fine. So they shared his bed- holding hands and whispering nonsense conversations under the covers like they were children and the adults were outside ready to bust them for being noisy.

He took the day off when she was released from the hospital but when he did go back to work, he insisted she send him a message to say where she was going, just in case something happened. She joked that he was being overly protective. She did it anyway. He got the messages- Going to the accupuncturist. Playing pool with Dr. Li. Hanging out at Smithsonian. Georgetown with the academics. With the NCIS. Hospital check up with Tony. Grocery shopping. Hanging out at Sal's, which made him uncomfortable because as much as she says it's cool, Sal was also an ex con running a run down roadside bar filled with people that could be their next unsub, etcetera. She kept him in the loop of what she was doing and that's all he could ever ask for.

In the span of one week of knowing the contents of the Sinatra file, he felt like his world suddenly expanded because Summer didn't feel the need to hide those contacts anymore. He learned that the agents of NCIS are just a bunch of goofballs when they went for movies and drinks three nights ago. Sans Agent Gibbs, of course, who apparently, makes the best steak he's eaten in the East Coast. He even found a sci fi buddy in Agent McGee. And quite frankly, the sight of nuns bowling and being oddly competitive was simply great.

And he knew she got along with the BAU. Summer had made a homemade dinner two nights ago to say thank you for getting her out. She made some hearty Italian dishes that, according to Rossi, was hard to find cooked this way outside of Italy. He was sure he overhead Garcia tell her boyfriend that it was too bad he missed the dinner. Several times. Emily was checking her email consistently, waiting for the risotto recipe. Hotch couldn't deny his son some take home Cat's Tongue cookies. Even JJ and Will was there with little Henry. His apartment was a bit crowded but all in all, the food and the Dinozzo recommended movie was feat he considered a hit.

Summer wasn't perfect, he knew that. Despite the Sinatra file, she was still a bit secretive about some of the phone calls she received from her godfather and some other people- all of whom she swore were buddies. And she wasn't the most tactful of people- not that she kicks people when their down either. She wasn't an absolute saint with her patience or her language. Or the fact that she had a bad habit of hustling pool and cards when she's bored. And most of the time she's completely apathetic on what people thought of her. Plus, she had a temper...

No, she was hardly perfect. She's human, after all. But he was completely sure that he was going to miss her. Just like when the McKenzies left when he was a kid. Just like everytime she was in town, and he had to watch her drive away in her father's old Chevelle or go through security in the airport.

A deep laugh interrupted his gloomy thoughts prompting him to look at the time. His eyes grew wide when he saw it was already 10 am. The deep voice must be Morgan. He said he was coming over at 9 with Garcia because they had forgotten their doggie bags which Summer promptly placed in the freezer.

"Oh crap," Spencer cursed, hurriedly taking clothes off his closet and rushing to washroom. He was done in record time, just pausing to make sure that he had gotten mismatched socks to wear. And when he went to the living area, he found three people eating breakfast on his table in a slightly picturesque way.

"Slim!" Summer greeted, rising from her seat with a big grin on her face. The bruising, it seemed, has gonde down to a very pale yellow much like her accupuncturist said. She gave him a small hug, which is what she's always done- something else he was going to miss. "We made animal pancakes."

"No. You made awesomely cute animal pancakes," Penelope corrected, waving her fork like a wand. "We watched you make them. And you, Reid, get the big elephant pancake."

Spencer watched his friend scamper off to the kitchen while he pulled himself a seat on the table. "The ele- what?" He paused, staring at the the plate Garcia had put infront of him. There was a pancake, shaped like an elephant with blueberries for eyes and jam and more berries as the rug that covered the elephants back. Then there were the two hard boiled eggs in the corner- a quarter of it was missing and two seeds were stuck on each other yolk to form eyes.

"Happy eggs are asking you to eat them, youngster. What's the matter with you?" Morgan chuckled.

A mug of coffee was placed down infront of him. "Sum," he faced the girl, who was sipping from her own mug, "I can't eat this."

"Why not? It's Saturday. Saturday was animal pancakes day with my folks remember?"

"It looks too nice to eat," he answered, honestly.

"Well then you wouldn't mind if I get another serving," Morgan said, reaching out for his plate.

Spencer quickly swatted the man's hand away with one hand and got his fork with the other. "No, Morgan. It's mine!" Just to make a point, he took the elephant's tail first making Garcia giggle, Morgan smirk and Summer snicker.

"Dude, seriously. D's eaten a lion and a pig. I don't think he can eat anymore pancakes," Summer said just as her phone started ringing. She quickly excused herself and made her way to the kitchen. But came back just as fast, literally skipping with delight. "Slim, do you think we can pass by a place before the airport? Someone I know just has something for me to look at. It's going to be awesome day, I swear," she let go in one breath.

Having just placed a forkful of pancake, he simply nodded. The smile on her face widened and Spencer watched her head to the room to pack her stuff. It was only when she disappeared that he sighed, poking one of the eggs with his fork.

"Well someone woke up in the wrong side of the bed," Morgan noticed. "You heard your friend, kid. It's going to be an awesome day."

He eyed the other agent wryly while picking off the berries. "Morgan, my friend is leaving today. How is that awesome?"


	19. Chapter 19

Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night.

Last chapter!

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

"I can't believe you believe that."

The next question was posed in utter disbelief. "Why?"

"Because normally, a person would subscribe to only one religion. To believe in one or one set of gods. But by the way you're talking, you seem to believe in all of them- Ra and Brahma alike."

"That's not true, Slim." There was a small snicker. "I'm pretty sure Zeus and Jupiter's the same guy."

"But that's already a given, Sum." There was an exasperated sigh. "It simply doesn't make sense to believe in all of them. Coupled with the fact that you're a doctor. It inherently dictates that you believe in the science of world. In experiments and proofs. Because that's what medicine is. It's not divine intervention."

There was a pause. "But I do believe in divine intervention, man."

"What?"

"Yeah. Like if any of the gods bothered to lift a finger..."

"So you believe in ghosts and spirits-"

"Yup."

"- and angels and demons-'

"Ha! Sometimes, there's no difference between them."

"- and that things are written in the stars?"

"No, bud. That right there is an Elton John song."

"So you don't believe in destiny. You believe in everything else except destiny. That's where you draw the line?"

"Hey, don't take that mocking tone with me, man. Like CERN hasn't been trying to find the God particle. For all your belief that science rules the world, you scientists sure are putting big money in proving religion," the girl sniped good naturedly. "I believe that man decides his own future. So what? What's bothering you is that I believe that there are some freaky unexplainable things out there that can't be explained by any tools on your kit. So let's use your wrenches of onservation for a second-"

Derek Morgan checked his rearview mirror to make sure it was, in fact, Summer explaining how a lot of unexplainable phenomenons actually have the consensus from the majority of ancient civilizations. She was mentioning the creepiest stuff as an example. In detail. With dates of discovery. With sources. Coupled with a few anecdotes of her own from yet unpublished researches she was obviously privied with.

Sounding eerily like her friend.

To the point that his own wing man on the passenger's seat, Penelope Garcia, faced him with wide eyes, mouthing, _Seriously?_

She didn't have to tell him twice. Morgan couldn't believe it what he was hearing from the backseat either. Granted, it places some of what Garcia's extensive research on Summer into light. The analyst had managed to find her name on the Thank You part of several major archeological, language, and history research papers and tens of minor works, some as recent as the year before. Even without a degree in any of subjects, it seemed that her work in that field was enough to give her a mention. Of course, Reid found out about it after a slip of a comment from Emily and he explained that his friend had lived a life most of those in the field could only dream of. She grew up in dig sites because it was her mother's field. "She learned most of history by unearthing it herself. That's experience those professors can't turn their backs on," Reid explained. "Her dad was military for a time. Her mother's an academic."

_And she wants to become a surgeon_, Morgan thought, keeping his eyes on the road but continued listening to mini lecture on the backseat. Once in awhile he would check on Reid, who had his face all scrunched up trying to process the logical weirdness that Summer was saying. It wasn't often he met someone that could school the kid in a certain subject like this.

"At least, he's in a better mood," Garcia leaned towards him and whispered."

"Ain't that right," Morgan replied.

Reid was in a particularly foul mood at breakfast. Snippy was the word Penelope had used. And therefore, Morgan had offered to drive them to the airport partly to make sure that Summer actually gets to the airport at all. From what he could tell this morning, there was that possibility that Reid would drive her through the craziest traffic just to get her to stay another day.

But of course, they had to pass by that place Summer mentioned- which apparently was a newly built apartment building in the Pentworth area of Georgia Avenue. A man slightly older than themselves was there to meet her, a Mr. Carter, and lead them to the third floor to show her a studio apartment. It was about 600 square feet with large windows, high ceilings, a full kitchen, washer and dryer and a breakfast bar, and a view.

That's when she broke the news to Reid that she actually applied for a one year fellowship at the Washington Hospital Center at the recommendation of her mentor Dr. Washburne. She missed her interview due to being hospitalized herself. But apparently, when she went to visit Director Vance, her interviewer was his doctor and things just went from there. In five months, she's going to be a resident of DC for at least a year. Summer had called it luck.

Whatever it was, the news brightened Reid's mood considerably. So much so that the kid started spouting the statistics of something like that happening to anyone.

"Holy crap..." Garcia had breathlessly said when she heard the rental price that Mr. Carter was offering the girl, plus all the other things he mentioned that they can change to her liking- something that had to do with salt. He was sure Reid was so shocked that he just turned to face the pair while checking the place out. He certainly was. He has a few properties so he knew the ballpark figure of how much a place like this cost to rent. It was being offered to her at an unheard of discount.

"Carter, are you nuts?" Summer had replied. "I checked on the internet how much this place rents for. I can afford it. Just charge me normal, man," she kept on insisting.

Which prompted a weird negotiation with the buyer wanting a to pay a higher price. Eventually, they settled on a middle ground but to Morgan's knowledge, it was still cheaper than most apartments in the area. Apparently, this Mr. Carter had felt sort of indebted because Summer had helped him out. "Pest control," they both had said at the same time when Reid had asked. It was fishy but he didn't go further.

Morgan had noticed that "I know a guy" seemed to be a recurring theme with her. She knew a hole in the wall Chinese noodle shop that actually made authentic hand pulled noodles because she knew the aging Chinese patriach who gave threw in an extra beef dish. They went to random bar where one of the bartenders recognized her because he used to work in some roadside bar- he gave her a free round of beer. Apparently, she didn't even have to pay to get in the special exhibits of the National Geographic Museum.

"Are you seriously saying that in every single ancient civilization, there's a description of a vampire? You're not kidding. It's not some Michael Jackson, blood disease thing?" Garcia's frightened voice cut through Morgan's thoughts.

"Yup. They all called it different things but... yeah. Pretty much," Summer answered just as they entered the airport's parking lot.

Morgan felt Garcia's hand on tugging on his shirt sleeve. "Holy scary stories, batman," she breathed.

"Doesn't mean it's all true, Baby Girl," he reassured quietly, patting her hand.

"You know, Summer, sometimes, I don't know what goes in that head of yours. Your brain has to be a really scary place," Reid finally said as he got out of the car.

"Hello. You hunt serial killers for a living," Summer shot back, reaching for her duffel bag.

"Hey, stay here. I'm going to get you a cart," Reid instructed.

"Slim, I have a half empty bag. I'm sure I can carry it all the way through without a cart," the girl argued.

"I'm getting you a cart," Reid insisted, walking away so that they had no choice in the matter.

"Aw, dammit all to hell." Morgan saw the girl sigh and lean against his car with a frown on her face. Her injuries were well hidden beneath the long sleeves of her well worn tunic and slim cut tattered jeans and the bruise on her face was barely noticiable. Chief Justice Trent was going straight to the slammer with no parole after he's released from the hospital and the reports of the case were going to be labelled top secret by the insistence of NCIS. And she was going home with fantastic news about the fellowship, so it came to suprise to Morgan to see the girl annoyed.

Of course, it was Penelope who picked it up first. "What's wrong?" the analyst asked waiting beside her.

"Can you guys do me a big, giant, favor?" Summer asked, pressing her lips together as she shook her head.

"Sure kid. As long as it's legal," Morgan answered. "What do you need?"

"Can you keep Spencer busy for a few weeks? Keep him distracted. Take him out. Make him hit on chicks," It was then that Morgan's eyes grew wide as she continued suggesting what to do, "Slip him more work. Slip him _your_ work. Make him figure out the seventieth decimal of pi. Something. Anything to keep him from reliving last weekend in his head."

"Reid seems fine to me," Garcia said waving when Reid turned to them briefly, like he heard what the girl was saying.

"He's totally not fine and he's not going to admit it to a bunch of profilers either," Summer replied. "He's having some sort of separation anxiety."

"Doesn't that happen to just children?" Morgan asked.

"Actually, it happens to only about 5% of kids. Adults are more along the lines of 7%," she corrected quickly. "And he's starting to be one of those 7%. With all the keeping me in his line of sight, checking up on where I am and the calling and stuff. Plus the way he was this morning...," she pointed out concerned. "I'm betting dollars to donuts that he keeps seeing me get shot. And, well, that's a tough enough image without having an eidetic memory right?"

"Aw, baby, maybe he's just sad to see you go," Garcia suggested.

Summer gave them a small smile. "He might be. But what he's been doing has been a bit extreme. Even for him," she argued. "And just... When I get back to my residency, I can't answer every text and phone call at once, you know. I don't want him to worry."

Morgan eyed the young agent akwardly looking for a quarter in his pockets. "You know, McKenzie, sometimes a guy just wants to make sure that he has a person all to himself. Suddenly knowing that you know all sorts of people in DC could make a guy wonder," he said, suggestively.

A suggestion she obviously didn't pick up.

_God, they were friends_, Morgan thought as he sighed.

"Nah, he knows I know a lot of people in town. Mom used to teach in Georgetown before she married dad. And a lot of the academics I used to hang out with live around here," she replied. "He can hide it from you guys because he knows the signs you look for as profilers. Just trust me. He's family. Besides, it won't hurt to take him out either- just make sure to set him up with a cool babe. And it gets a few work things off your plates too. All I see is Win- Win," she said, giving them a small wink as Reid finally came over with a cart.

"What's win- win, Sum?" the youngster asked, huffing.

"The thing about letting Gunny and Vance handle whatever trouble your director's throwing your way. SecNav's totally got their back," Summer excused quickly with a smile. She gave them small goodbye hugs before following Reid towards the entrance.

Morgan watched as Reid started laughing at whatever it was Summer was telling him this time. The absolute ease that he interacted with her was still knew to his eyes. Reid wasn't like that with anyone in the BAU, not even when JJ was around. So when, the pair went through the double automatic doors of the airport, and Morgan caught Summer's blue eyes briefly, he simply gave her a nod. Sure, he'll look after the kid for her.

Spencer Reid, after all, is his family too.

When the youngster came out just a few minutes after, he was positively back to that mood he had earlier. He fidgeted with his purple scarf and shoved his hands into his coat pocket like a schoolboy that Garcia met him halfway the parking lot to give him a hug. "Look at this way, dear Vat-of-all-things-knowable. She'll be here in five months," she tried.

"Thanks, Penelope," Reid gave her a tight smile.

Morgan saw the difference immediately. The Spencer Reid they knew is back- self conscious and awkwardness intact. The one that stood a bit straighter and walked with a bit more confidence in his step left with the girl on the jetplane. Apparently, what Summer failed to mention was how her request would start when she left the city. How the hell was he suppose to keep this one occupied today? He had absolutely no time to plan.

It was then Reid's phone started beeping. He watched him clumsily fish out his phone and stare at the message for a second, confused and amused at the same time. "Morgan?" Reid called out, raising his head for a moment. "Summer says that you're taking me out?"

"Wait. Wha-" Morgan heard his own phone ring and decided to get it before he continued his answer. There was a text message with an address in H street and instruction to ask for someone named Bettina. "_She'll be waiting for you. It's a burlesque club btw ;P - Summer" _it said.

"Derek, where are we taking him?" Garcia prompted.

Morgan grinned. "You're going to like this, mama," he answered handing her his phone. "Yeah, we're taking you out tonight. So dress up, okay Pretty Boy? No cords allowed. In fact, why don't we hit the mall and get you something snazzy for tonight?" he said, throwing an arm around the younger agent.

"This is Summer's idea, isn't it?" he asked knowingly.

"Don't know what you're talking about, kid,"Morgan replied, starting the car. But he knew Reid was unconvinced because just as they left the parking lot, he saw the genius look out the window and to the departing planes with a thoughful smile.

"Silly girl," he heard him mumble, looking at his own phone again with a wider smile this time as he started typing a reply.

_Yeah, silly girl,_ Morgan silently repeated to himself.

NOTE:: edit 03/01/2011- so, there was this anonymous commenter that nicely pointed out yesterday that there's no admission fee to the Smithsonian. I paused for a second and I was like- "OMG! THAT'S RIGHT! It's the Smithsonian Design museum in New York that charges admission. B, you're an idiot!" Haha so I changed it from the Smithsonian to exhibits of the NatGeo Museum. Thanks, Anonymous commenter


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